


Light Will Shine Through the Rain

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Type Violence, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, altered sansa, badass!sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark grew up a true child of the North, cold and prepared for winter. Her life is spent watching and listening to everything happening around her. Her father notices and spends his time ensuring that his daughter is prepared for the wickedness of the world and their enemies. As they travel to King's Landing, she meets the prince's sworn shield on the road, learning many truths from him that help her to survive. With the help of her father, sister, and this scarred man, Sansa navigates the politics of court and manages to play the game of thrones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please be easy on me. This is my first GoT/ASoIaF fic and I'm still trying to figure out how to write the characters. It may not be accurate and in character at first but I am working on.
> 
> My main goal with this story is to explore what would have happened if Sansa grew up more involved in the governing that her father did and perhaps more interested in things outside of being a lady like Arya. I'll still try to keep her the same in many aspects but different in others, maybe reacting differently in certain situations.
> 
> Sansa is aged up to sixteen at the beginning of this story. Consequently, Robb and Jon are closer to nineteen. The rest of the Stark children are the same ages as they are in the book.
> 
> I am more familiar with the television show but I am working on reading through the books to get a better read on the characters but this might still include things from both the book series and the HBO show.

The north was different. Sansa grew into a young woman knowing that the words rang true. It was cold and unflinching, just as the Starks were meant to be. She was mostly no different than her siblings, no matter how much Arya sometimes tried to make her out to be. Sansa often wore beautiful dresses in the color of their house and twisted her hair into pretty braids in an attempt to mimic their mother. She succeeded in this effort. Many heads turned when she walked through Winterfell with Catelyn, wondering if they were seeing double. But when she separated from her mother’s side, she was often with her brothers or her father.

From the time that she was able to walk, Ned’s councilmen grew used to seeing a young child perched on his knee. Her bright blue eyes would stare at each of them as she listened to the meeting in grave silence that was strange for a girl at her age. As she grew, her desire to hear her father’s decision-making did not change. The men who served him would often see Sansa remain behind, her head bent close to the Lord Stark’s as she asked questions about what they discussed in the meeting. When she was not at the side of her father or mother, Sansa was either in her lessons, out in the yard with her siblings, or slipping out of the castle to embark on a short adventure.

Sansa enjoyed the feeling of running through a field, her red hair streaming behind her as her boots pounded against the hard ground. She liked the feel of steel in her hand, a weapon to defend herself. She did not use it much but, just as every other Stark who ever lived, she did not enjoy being weak. When she would join her brothers in the yard along with Arya, they would occasionally pick up weapons when no authority figures were looking. Arya went for one of the practice swords, daring any of her brothers to fight her. Bran would refuse, thinking himself above a ridiculous fight with his sister even if she was older than him. Robb took himself too seriously, challenging Theon to an actual duel as Arya frowned with disappointment. That left Jon, their bastard brother. He would take up arms and fight her for as long as she wanted, bringing a smile to her face.

Sansa did not beg her siblings to challenge her because there was nothing to challenge. Her weapon of choice in the yard was the bow and arrow. It was graceful, something befitting a lady more than a sword, in her opinion. Rickon would sit on the fence, watching her with delighted eyes and a wide grin as she aimed at the target. Sansa was horrible at first until Ser Rodrick Cassel, the master-at-arms and the man who trained her brothers and Theon, whispered instructions into her ear before wandering off. The man was set in his ways, determined to think that everyone should be able to defend themselves, even women. He encouraged Sansa and Arya’s actions even though it drew ire from many others, including their mother.

Sansa was able to shoot five arrows at the most before Septa Mordane came screeching along for them to get back to their needlepoint. This day, though, it was not her that came to get them. Their father strolled into the yard, a somber look on his face as his hand hovered over his broadsword. They all stopped, Arya dropping her sword as she and Sansa wondered if he would admonish them and send them back to the castle. He did not even glance at them, used to seeing his daughters with weapons in their hands even if his wife did not like it. Ned agreed with his master-at-arms that all of his children should be taught to defend themselves even if it was not how it was traditionally done. It was growing colder and winter was coming, he could not afford to differentiate between the sons and daughters that he cared for so much.

“A deserter from the Night’s Watch has been found.” Eddard finally spoke, making them all glance at each other with grave expressions that matched his far too closely. “You three are coming along as well as Bran.”

He nodded at Robb, Jon, and Theon before turning to walk off. A stable boy was readying his great horse in preparation for the ride. Arya moved closer to Sansa, whispering under her breath as she spoke.

“Why does Bran go and not us? He is younger.” She hissed.

“Women are not meant to see such things, Arya.” Sansa sighed, setting down her bow and arrows before lifting her skirts.

She began to walk back to the castle before her younger sister caught up, stopping her in place.

“We should leave then, too. If Bran is allowed to, then so shall we.” Arya said, looking up at her brightly.

Sansa felt hesitation at her words. Last time they left, Catelyn yelled herself hoarse about the dangers.

“We cannot, Arya. It is dangerous.”

“Not if you’re a boy.” Her sister replied, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Sansa stared at her for a moment, hardly able to resist the urge to question what she meant.

“All right, what?” she finally gave in.

Arya grinned and seized her hand, dragging her to the castle and straight to her room. Sansa stared with surprise as she pulled out a stack of threadbare clothing, most of it dirty and ragged.

“What is that?” she demanded.

“I got it from a servant boy. We can hide our hair in the caps and roam as freely as we wish.” Arya said, looking at her hopefully.

Sansa hesitated, unsure about whether or not they should truly do this.

“I do not know, Arya. Mother was quite angry last time.” she warned.

“Mother will not know.” Arya insisted.

After several minutes of staring at each other, Sansa relented once more and took some of the clothing.

\----------

They left through the servant’s quarters, no one questioning them as they slipped out and relished in the feeling of no longer being looked at as the Lord Stark’s daughters despite the fact that it was only for a few hours. Sansa wiggled her toes in her boots before taking off around the walls of the castle towards the town.

“Wait!” Arya stopped her.

Sansa turned, giving her a questioning look.

“We must look dirtier.” Her sister decided, bending down.

Before Sansa could protest, Arya was rubbing dirt on their faces to cover their fair skin. She grumbled, wiping it off as she glared at her sister.

“There, a true urchin.” Arya said, nodding at her as she grinned proudly.

Sansa narrowed her eyes and shoved at her shoulder as Arya laughed gleefully. They walked through the town, hardly gaining any looks because of their appearance.

“This is even better than I thought it would be. No one is bothering to look at us.” Arya said, relishing in the fact that they were unremarkable to the common people.

As they walked out of the town, they both looked up towards the hill where they knew that their father would be with their brothers.

“Why do you think the man deserted?” Sansa wondered as they walked.

“Perhaps he got tired of the cold.” Arya suggested.

Sansa frowned, watching as her breath steamed in the air.

“It is not much warmer here.” She said.

Arya shrugged, skipping ahead.

“What if he was attacked by the Others?” she said, smirking at Sansa over her shoulder.

The older Stark sister shook her head.

“The Others do not exist, Arya. Not anymore. They haven’t for hundreds of years.” Sansa reminded her.

“But wouldn’t it be a wonderful story if they did?” Arya said, looking out at the trees that lined the woods.

Sansa looked at her with disbelief.

“It would be horrible if they did! The Others are terrible creatures, Arya.” She said, a shiver running down her spine at the mere thought of them existing.

“Oh now you sound like Old Nan.” Arya said, grinning at her.

She leaned in a little bit closer, squinting at her face.

“You are starting to look like her as well. I think there are wrinkles.”

Sansa shoved at her, sending her stumbling backwards as she laughed.

“Take that back! I do not have wrinkles!” Sansa yelled despite the smile on her face.

“There are definitely wrinkles!” Arya replied, taking off running.

Sansa shook her head before taking off after her. Their feet pounded on the cold ground as they darted through the large field that surrounded their home. Once they got to the treeline, they both peered into the dark woods, not daring to cross the border.

“I’ll race you.” Arya challenged.

“I will not go into the forest.” Sansa refused, shaking her head.

“No! Up the trees. You do that one and I’ll do that one.” she said, gesturing.

Sansa considered it for a moment before nodding once.

“I take your challenge.” She said, turning to Arya.

They both adopted serious looks, bowing once before taking their places.

“Go!” Arya shrieked.

Their laughter filled the air as they scrambled up the trees. Sansa already knew that she would lose. Arya was smaller and lighter, giving her an advantage. When her hat caught on a branch, it ripped off and sent her hair tumbling down her back. Sansa stopped, sitting on a thick branch as she took a deep breath. Arya was up higher than her but she didn’t care.

“Aren’t you glad we did this?” Arya questioned.

Sansa nodded, looking out over Winterfell.

“Who knows how long we will be able to do this? Winter is coming.” She said in a quiet voice.

Before Arya could reply, they both heard a crack deep within the trees. Their heads whipped around and they looked into the woods, unable to see anything.

“Sansa?” Arya said in a small voice.

“It was probably a deer or a rabbit.” Sansa said, trying to convince them both of her words.

As if to disprove her, a low growl filled the air.

“That’s not a rabbit.” Arya said.

“Go!” Sansa cried.

They both slid down the trees as the growling grew louder. Sansa hissed in pain as the bark cut into her hands but she did not pay attention, seizing Arya’s hand. They began running, hearing a panting noise behind them. They heard a louder growl and Sansa’s answering scream echoed through the area around them. The noise ceased but they did not stop running into they were closer to the castle. At the sound of thundering hooves coming at them, they both staggered to a stop and saw their father and brothers come into view with the other men that they rode out with.

“Seven hells, it’s your daughters.” Jory Cassel said, looking amused at the sight of them in breeches.

Ned sighed, shaking his head as he slid off of his horse.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, approaching them. “In breeches?”

Robb, Jon, and Theon all looked close to laughter at their guilty looks.

“Looking for trouble, father.” Arya answered in a quiet voice.

Ned’s mouth twitched as he fought the urge to smile. They both saw it and perked up a little, knowing they likely would not find trouble with him.

“And did you find it?” he questioned, looking at Sansa.

“We always do, father.” She nodded solemnly despite her sparkling eyes.

Ned nodded, agreeing with her as he gestured to the horses.

“Let us get you home before your mother notices your absence.” He sighed.

Neither of them paid attention, instead focusing on the sounds coming from Robb’s cloak. Both girls drifted closer, curious at the noises.

“What is it?” Arya asked, looking up at their oldest brother.

Robb looked at their father for permission and when he nodded, he uncovered the pups and they both gasped with delight.

“Wolves?” Sansa said, reaching up to pet one of them.

“Not just any wolves. Direwolves.” Bran broke in, looking as thrilled as his sisters.

Sansa looked at their father with wide eyes.

“Do we get to keep them?” she asked.

Ned hesitated before nodding.

“As long as you stop sneaking out of the town in boy’s breeches.” He said conditionally.

“That’s all right, father. I won’t need boy’s clothing to get out anymore. One look at Nymeria and no one will say no to me ever again. Once she grows, of course.” Arya said, petting her own pup fondly.

Ned fought the urge to laugh at his youngest daughter’s certainty.

“Nymeria?” Jon questioned.

She nodded happily, grinning up at him.

“She will be the fiercest direwolf in all the north.” Arya said.

Ned walked forward, helping Sansa onto his horse as Arya clambered up with Jon. Their plan to keep Sansa and Arya’s escape to themselves was shattered as soon as they rode into the gates. Catelyn was standing there with a severe look, Septa Mordane next to her, who gasped in shock when she saw the state of her two charges.

“What have you gotten into?” Catelyn demanded once Sansa and Arya were off of the horses.

“Look, mother, direwolves!” Arya said happily, gesturing to Robb.

Her eyes widened as she looked upon them before Catelyn turned her gaze on her husband.

“And what do we plan on doing with those?” she demanded.

“They’re for our children. There is enough for each one.” Ned said, nodding at Sansa and Arya who were taking their wolves.

“Ned…” she began, looking wary of the animals.

He put his hands on her arms, pulling her in to kiss her forehead.

“They are our sigil, I believe that it is a sign from the gods that we cannot ignore.” Ned said.

The children all nodded in agreement except for Jon, who was looking down at his own snow-white direwolf with a frown. Catelyn sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“At the first sign of trouble…” she trailed off, leaving the end of her sentence unspoken for her childrens’ sake.

Ned nodded in agreement, glancing back at the Stark sons and daughters with a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Ned.” Catelyn sighed, knowing that she would have to tell him eventually. “There has been a raven from King’s Landing.”

Sansa exchanged a look with Robb, wondering what that meant. Their mother and father did not stay to explain, both of them hurrying off as she handed him the parchment.

“You don’t think that we are at war?” Arya asked, worry reflecting in her voice.

They were all feeling the same. They did not want to lose their father to the battles that King Robert wanted to fight.

“Let’s go clean up.” Sansa said quietly, leading her inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving news from King's Landing, Winterfell must prepare for the arrival of the royal family and their court. Sansa shares her concerns with her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much longer chapter, longer than I intended it to be. I almost cut it in half but there was no real good place that I could figure out to do it so I left it as it is.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and for the wonderful comments. I love hearing what you think.

Her footsteps echoed around the empty hall as Sansa walked through the dining chamber. Her hands were hidden in the folds of her dark grey gown as she looked around. Soon, it would be filled with strangers that they would have to entertain. It sounded like a dream from the stories and songs that she read and sang of princes and knights alike. But it was not a tale of magic and love. It was sadness and death. Her father was mourning for his old friend and mentor, the former Hand of the King. Sansa knew almost nothing of Jon Arryn except for the fact that he was responsible for the union of her father and mother, encouraging Ned to marry his fallen brother’s betrothed.

He also pushed King Robert into an alliance with the Lannisters that gave Westeros the golden haired queen, Cersei of Casterly Rock. Sansa heard stories even in the north of her beauty and grace that extended to her children. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen gained nothing of their father’s brutish desires as it is told. Sansa would make that judgment for herself, not that it was her right to judge the royal children. The door opened behind her and she turned, broken out of her thoughts. Jory Cassel walked in, stopping short and bowing his head out of respect for her. Sansa moved towards him.

“Jory, where is my father?” she asked.

“In the godswood.” Jory answered, gesturing outside.

Once Sansa retrieved her cloak and fastened it around her neck, she was hurrying out of the castle towards the godswood. Sansa’s hair was unbraided, flowing around her shoulders and to her waist in fiery waves. Her direwolf trotted alongside her as soon as she walked outside, her ears flopping as she looked around the area with sharp eyes. Sansa moved through the dark woods carefully until she made it to the weirwood heart tree. Her father was seated on a boulder with his sword between his legs. He was polishing it and she felt a chill run down her spine as she remembered that he killed a man with the same weapon earlier that day. 

Ned looked up as he heard a branch snap beneath her foot, a tired smile making its way onto his face. He gestured to a smaller rock beside him and Sansa walked around the pool of cold water to sit with him. As soon as she was seated and Lady was curled up at her feet, he looked at her with a frown, seeing the worry reflected in her eyes.

“What is weighing on you?” her father asked, running the cloth up and down the Valyrian steel blade.

Sansa took a deep breath, looking down at her reflection in the still water.

“Why do they come here? Why can he not summon you to King’s Landing?” she questioned, looking up at him with a furrowed brow.

Ned reached out, smoothing the stress out of her forehead with his thumb.

“You are far too young to worry about the schemes of old men.” He said in a low voice.

Sansa caught his hand before he could withdraw, holding it in both of her smaller hands.

“Father, what does King Robert mean to do on his visit to Winterfell?” she pushed, ignoring his attempts to avoid her worried questions.

Ned sighed, laying his sword down.

“I believe that he means to visit Lyanna’s tomb.”

Sansa gave him a look, becoming frustrated with his answers.

“And then he shall ask me to be Hand of the King, if my suspicions are correct.” Ned said in a low, defeated voice.

She inhaled sharply, bowing her head for a moment before she looked back up at him.

“I thought the same but you can say no, can’t you?” Sansa asked.

“I can.” Ned nodded in agreement. “Up until the moment that my King orders me to serve him.”

She knew that he was right. King Robert was a selfish man, from what she heard of her mother’s words. Catelyn only met the man a few times, at her own wedding and at his wedding to Queen Cersei. Sansa was not sure that she ever wanted to meet him but she did not have a choice now. Sansa reached down, petting Lady’s head as she remained silent.

“I do not want them here.” She admitted, looking back up at him.

Ned frowned, confused by her words.

“I thought that you would be happy to see the royal family and their court with all of the stories that you read and the songs that you sing.” He said.

She shook her head slowly, watching as Lady lifted herself up and walked to the water’s edge.

“They will take you from us.” Sansa said quietly.

Her eyes remained on her direwolf, watching as she drank the cool water. They both remained silent, listening to the sounds of the trees. When they heard footsteps several minutes later, they both looked up to see Ser Rodrick approaching them.

“A raven has come from the wall. It is from your brother.” he said.

Ned nodded, straightening up as he sheathed his sword. As he walked past her, his hand went to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Do not fret, my child. All will be well.” he whispered before moving to follow his master-at-arms.

Sansa watched as they went, a forlorn look on her face. Lady whined at her feet, sensing her mood. She looked down, smiling at her direwolf before standing. Sansa hesitated, glancing down at the pool of water before easing down to her knees. Lady sat beside her, watching as she reached out towards the water. In the back of her mind, she knew that it was ice cold. It was not touched by the hot springs that ran through the walls of Winterfell. Her fingers drifted through the clear water. Sansa awaited the stinging feeling that was meant to accompany the abrupt change in temperature but knew that it wouldn’t come. It never did.

\----------

Sansa sat on the edge of the bed, her feet curled beneath her and her hand holding onto the bedpost.

“The Hand?” Robb said from where he was unfastening his cloak.

She nodded, spreading her arms to help Rickon onto the bed and into her lap. He laid his head against her chest, sighing contentedly. Of all of his siblings, he was closest to Sansa due to her similarities to Catelyn in looks and disposition. Jon and Bran were in the room as well, both sitting on the windowsill.

“Father is almost certain.” Sansa confirmed.

“He’ll accept. He has no choice.” Jon spoke up.

Robb shook his head, sinking into a chair.

“What will happen to Winterfell, then? Father is the Warden of the North.” Bran said, frowning in confusion.

Jon and Sansa both looked at Robb, who was suddenly finding the stone floor of his room very interesting.

“Robb will become Lord as is his birthright. Father cannot be the Hand as well as Warden. It wouldn’t be allowed.” Sansa said.

“Lord Robb of Winterfell.” Jon said, a taunting tone in his voice as he attempted to cheer his brother.

It worked, causing Robb to grin over at him as he threw a glove in his direction. Suddenly the door slammed open and Arya ran in, a smile on her face.

“Uncle Benjen is coming!” she announced, flying onto Robb’s bed.

They all exchanged thrilled looks, happy to hear that their father’s brother was on his way to Winterfell.

“He will likely arrive at the same time as the royal family and their retinue.” Jon said.

“Good. He’ll provide a good distraction from the golden Lannisters.” Robb said, making a face at the reminder of the fair-haired family that did not historically get along with the Starks.

His grimace was reminiscent of their father’s look whenever he spoke of Tywin Lannister or any of his children.

“At least we’ll see the Imp.” Arya said, looking fascinated at the idea of seeing the younger brother of Cersei and Jaime.

“You musn’t call him that when he’s here. It does not matter that he is a Lannister, it’s insulting and very rude of you.” Sansa chided, flicking Arya’s ear.

The younger Stark sister stuck out her tongue before ducking away from another flick. Before they could say another word, there was a light knock on the door and Catelyn pushed it open, stepping inside. Her eyes flickered across her children’s faces, darkening slightly when she saw Jon amongst them. He noticed, looking away from her to stare outside.

“Get washed up for dinner, all of you. I don’t want a single dirty fingernail.” She warned.

Sansa hopped off the bed, setting Rickon down to run out with Bran. Arya darted out next before Jon sidled by Catelyn with his eyes cast downward. As Sansa walked out, her mother fell into step with her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Your father told me of your conversation in the godswood.” Catelyn said quietly.

She looked over at the Stark matriarch, studying the blue eyes that were so like her own.

“You can’t be happy either, not about the Lannisters coming.” Sansa said.

“It is not my place to be unhappy. I am expected to stand beside my husband and be honored at the royal family’s visit and that is exactly what I shall do.” Catelyn replied.

Sansa frowned at her, not liking the proper answer though she knew that it was what her mother was meant to say. She was taught well by her Septa to always say the appropriate words even if it was not what she was thinking.

“You should begin making a dress for their visit. I am certain the queen would love to see what beautiful things you can create.” Catelyn said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Behind her words, Sansa could hear something that told her that Catelyn honestly did not care whether or not Cersei approved of her children but it was so well covered that she knew this was important.

“I shall start tomorrow.” Sansa promised her, intent on making her mother smile even if she had to swallow her pride to do so.

Catelyn smiled at her, a bit of the stress melting out of her eyes before she kissed Sansa on the cheek and left her behind at the door of her bedchamber. She watched her mother go before entering the room to prepare for dinner.

\----------

Sansa’s nimble fingers wove in and out of the fabric gently, embroidering dark blue winter roses on the skirt of her lighter blue dress. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she worked, Septa Mordane watching her with approval in her eyes. Jeyne Poole, her closest friend, stopped working on her own sewing to watch with wide eyes as Sansa did the finishing touches on her dress. Arya wasn’t paying attention, staring out of the window longingly down at the yard where their brothers were laughing joyfully as they sparred. Part of Sansa wished to be there as well but she was glad to be almost done with the dress. King Robert’s court was fast approaching and would surely be there within a few hours.

As Sansa snipped the last thread and tied it off before laying the dress on the table, Arya’s head whipped around hopefully. Their Septa inspected the creation, smoothing out the collar and clicking her tongue at the underside of a sleeve that was slightly askew. Sansa held her breath as she waited for her final words on the dress.

“It is a fine piece of work. You will look like royalty yourself.” Septa Mordane announced.

Sansa and Arya both leapt up, taking it as a dismissal.

“You are not done with your sewing!” the old woman protested.

Neither of them listened, hurrying out with Jeyne close behind, the third girl wondering what the fuss was about. When she saw them heading for the yard, Jeyne hurried faster for a different reason. She always had a fancy for Robb and loved to see him fighting his brothers or Theon. Sansa and Arya pushed the fence open and darted through, sharing triumphant smiles as they went for their weapons of choice.

“Sansa! Arya!” a disapproving voice called behind them.

They both froze, a blunted sword in Arya’s hand and a bow in Sansa’s as she reached for a quiver of arrows. As the sisters turned, they looked up to see their mother and father standing on the balcony of the second level of their castle. Their father looked moments away from laughing as Catelyn looked at them sternly.

“King Robert and his court are due here any moment and you two are not to engage in his nonsense. Up to your rooms both of you. I’ve had baths prepared and your maids will dress you to receive the King and Queen.” she said, scolding them both.

As they heard their brothers snickering behind them, Arya’s face grew red and annoyed.

“Why don’t they have to bathe?” she demanded, pointing at the others.

“They are going for a shave.” Catelyn said, her eyes flashing with triumph.

Robb, Jon, and Theon grew quiet, all of them looking up at her with wide eyes. Their eldest brother reached up, touching his dark facial hair as though he would rather run naked in the snow than shave it off.

“Must we?” Robb protested.

Arya shot him a smirk as Catelyn nodded in confirmation. The boys filed off, each of them grumbling as they headed for the barbers in town. 

“Bran, Rickon, baths for you two as well.”

Sansa hoisted Rickon into her arms as Arya dragged Bran inside, the younger sister determined not to be the only one tortured.

\----------

Once she was scrubbed, brushed, braided, and clothed, Sansa was hurried out of her room and down to the courtyard. Her brothers were there as well as her mother and father but Arya was nowhere to be seen. Sansa glanced around for her sister just as Catelyn caught her arm and put her in place next to Robb.

“You look beautiful.” her mother said, kissing her cheek before moving away again.

She stood next to Ned as they heard commotion from outside of the gates. Sansa lifted herself, straightening her shoulders and inclining her chin slightly. Robb shifted next to her, his smooth jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the opening to the courtyard. One glance down confirmed to Sansa that his fists were clenched. He was perhaps the least pleased out of anyone about the visit. Robb did not want to be Lord of Winterfell if Ned was taken away. He still saw that as his father’s title and did not want to take it.

“Sansa!” Catelyn suddenly hissed, looking over at her with wide eyes. “Where’s Arya?”

Sansa shrugged, a look of confusion on her face. It would not have taken Arya nearly as long to ready herself so there was no excuse for her not to be there. As if summoned by the mention of her name, the youngest Stark daughter ran into the courtyard with her dress hitched up around her ankles. Sansa, Robb, and Jon stifled their laughter as Ned stopped her in place, pulling the helmet off of her head.

“Why do you have this?” he asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Arya simply offered up a smile before hurrying to her spot next to Sansa, pushing Bran aside to make room for herself. As they heard horses approaching, the Starks regained their composure. Each of their faces adopted similarly cold and indifferent expressions to hide their thoughts. The visitors poured through the gates, many in polished armor with a sea of golden banners above their heads, each emblazoned with the crowned stag of the Baratheon family. The men kept pouring in, filling each and every empty space. Every so often, Sansa would glance at her father and see a flicker of recognition in his face. These were likely the men he fought with in both Robert’s Rebellion the Greyjoy Rebellion. When she saw him inhale sharply, her eyes turned to see a handsome man with long golden hair come through the gate on a white horse. His armor was beautiful, scarlet swirls on the golden metal. He was the very embodiment of what Sansa imagined a Lannister to be. It had to be Cersei’s twin brother, judging by the snow white cloak on his back that announced his position on the Kingsguard.

Behind him, a tall boy with equally yellow hair trotted through with a blank look on his face. His eyes flickered over the crowd, unimpressed at the faces looking back at him until he caught sight of Sansa. His mouth twisted into a smile as he looked at her appreciatively. Sansa stared back at him, her face unchanging as she took in his features. He was handsome, it was true. The crown prince looked much like his uncle Jaime. A rather large man on a black warhorse was behind Joffrey like a menacing shadow, his entire head hidden by a helm fashioned into the visage of a snarling dog. Sansa’s eyes remained on the man, drawn in as he lifted the top of the polished steel helm and glanced around before pulling it off completely. She felt the prince’s eyes still staring at her but didn’t pay attention. In the corner of her vision, she saw Robb glaring at the eldest royal child and knew that he was receiving enough attention from a Stark.

Joffrey’s shield took the chance to look around the entire space around him now that his helm was no longer restricting his vision. His eyes flickered over the Starks one by one, starting with Ned and moving lower as he went along until he reached Sansa. His eyes didn’t dart to Arya as he stared back at her with a piercing gaze. That was when Sansa saw the burns. They covered half of his face and even twisted part of his mouth into a permanent grimace. It was hard to tell in the sunlight but she even thought she saw part of his jawbone peeking through the ruined skin. Sansa immediately looked away, a cold feeling gripping her spine as she wondered what could have caused such injuries.

Arya looked up at her with wide eyes, clearly noticing the same thing that she did. When they both heard a great yell, they jumped slightly and looked to see a giant of a man heaving himself off of a horse. If they did not recognize the stag’s horn crown on his head, they would have known who he was as soon as he grabbed their father in a bone-crushing hug. Ned barely flinched before pulling away and looking at his old friend. The others were bowing out of respect, their heads lowered before he gestured for them to stand.

“It is good to see that frozen face of yours.” King Robert said, looking over him and laughing. “You have not changed at all.”

The king’s eyes flickered over the rest of the Starks, seeing the same cold look on each of their faces. Robert never met a single one of Ned’s children but he would have picked the young ones out of a crowd as his brood. Before he could say a word about him, a woman with long golden hair walked through the gate with two young children trailing behind her. Sansa eyed her, looking upon Queen Cersei for the first time. She truly was a beautiful woman just as her brother was a handsome man. Her path led her straight to him as her children remained behind with their uncle. Ned bent over, kissing Cersei’s ring as Robert embraced Catelyn more gently than he had her husband.

“And who have we got here?” Robert asked, moving to look at the younger Starks.

“Children.” Ned nodded at them.

They took turns stepping forward and saying their names. Robb was first, nodding at both the king and queen before stepping back again. When Sansa took her turn, Cersei’s bright green eyes seemed to stare into hers as if she wished to know every thought that Sansa ever had. She stared back, speaking her name in a soft tone with her eyes hardening slightly. She’d seen snow as deep as graves and wildings as brutal as warriors. Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock would not intimidate Sansa Stark no matter how hard she tried. The eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn had too much of her parents in her to be easily frightened.

“Ah, this one is a Tully through and through, isn’t she Ned?” Robert said, seeing nothing of her father on her face.

“She’s got more of the north in her than you would think, Your Grace.” Ned answered, glancing at her.

Sansa lifted her chin proudly as Robert let out a laugh and moved on.

\----------

Once Ned led Robert down in the crypts that ran beneath Winterfell, Sansa was itching to be somewhere else. Joffrey was still eyeing her interestedly as Robb glared him down. Cersei was exchanging words in low tones with her brother, looking angered by something.

“Where’s the imp?” Arya whispered to her.

Sansa shushed her, shaking her head at her impropriety. Her eyes were drawn to the prince’s direction not because she was returning his gaze, but because of his shadow. She now knew exactly who this was once she asked Robb in a low tone. The Hound, a fearsome man who could cut men in half with his great sword. Looking at him now, Sansa knew that all of the stories had to be true. But there were even more rumors of how he received the burns that covered half of his face. No one truly knew but they enjoyed speculating about it. Sansa searched her mind, remembering that his actual name was spoken to her a few times in Maester Luwin’s explanation about the royal family and their closest servants.

“Sandor Clegane.” She finally whispered, triumphant to have figured it out.

As if he heard her, his eyes swiveled around and stared deeply into her own. Sansa froze, staring back at him like a wild animal in the sights of a hunter. When she heard a curious noise, her eyes tore away from the prince’s sworn shield to see grey and black blurs bolting towards them with a man following them and shouting. The Stark children all stepped forward when they heard familiar yapping. Just as the direwolves charged into the courtyard, Prince Joffrey let out a yelp and leapt backwards. Jaime laughed at his nephew’s reaction as Cersei looked at the animals as if they were diseased. Each of the siblings dropped down to their knees, careless of the dirt on the ground as they greeted their direwolves happily.

They were bigger now, each the size of a small calf. Lady propped her paws on Sansa’s knees and pressed their noses together. Sansa laughed at the cold feeling as she ran her hands through the light grey fur on her back. Greywind was bounding around Robb in circles with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and Nymeria almost knocked Arya to the ground in her excitement. Ghost was sitting beside Jon calmly, watching his siblings with those piercing red eyes that intimidated many of the servants.

“The Starks have wolves as pets, how lovely.” Cersei said, looking at them with disapproval clear in her glare.

“Direwolves, Your Grace.” Sansa corrected her as respectfully as she could.

The Queen raised an eyebrow at her and Catelyn stepped forward.

“Shall I escort you to your chambers, Your Grace?” Lady Stark said.

Cersei nodded once, whisking past the others as she walked into the castle. Sansa exchanged an amused look with Arya before ruffling Lady’s head and kissing her nose.

“Sansa, is it?”

Her head snapped up at the mention of her name and she saw that the prince was much closer and staring down at her. She nodded as the other stared at them. Sansa straightened up and bowed her head for a moment before lifting it. Joffrey smiled at her, giving her a look that made his emerald green eyes shine. She hesitated for a moment before offering a sweet smile in return, charmed by his handsome face. He held his arm out to her and she glanced at her siblings before taking it. Robb’s eyes narrowed at the motion.

“Shall you escort me to my own chambers, Lady Sansa?” Joffrey asked.

“Of course, my prince.” Sansa agreed, knowing that she was meant to attend to the remainder of the royal family in the absence of her mother and father.

“It would please me if you called me Joffrey or Joff.” He said, staring into her eyes.

Sansa nodded in agreement to his polite request.

“Only if you call me Sansa.” She stipulated.

He smiled in reply, nodding as well. They walked inside, Joffrey’s sworn shield and Lady shadowing them as they entered the castle.

“It is so warm in here.” Joffrey said, surprise in his voice.

“The hot springs run through the walls of Winterfell and warm us. My mother’s room is the warmest of all because she is used to the weather in Riverrun rather than the cold of the north. The rest of us almost find it unbearable sometimes but I suppose that is the blood of the First Men within our veins.” Sansa said, walking up the winding stairs with him. “Your chambers will be near to the warmer part of the castle as well. I promise you will not be affected by the snow outside.”

Joffrey looked at her with a hint of confusion.

“There is no snow.” He said, glancing out of a narrow window in the passage to ensure that he was correct.

“There will be by the first light tomorrow.” Sansa said confidently.

His face changed to one of disbelief.

“Can you predict the future?” Joffrey asked skeptically.

She shook her head, smiling over at him.

“Of course not, my prin… Joffrey. I can smell the snow.” Sansa said simply.

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, obviously thinking that she was tricking him. They both remained silent until they reached Joffrey’s chambers.

“I will see you at the banquet.” Sansa said, sinking into a curtsy.

“I look forward to it.” Joffrey nodded before pushing his door open.

She watched him walk inside and smiled as he turned to close the door, locking it once it was shut. Sansa took a deep breath, turning around. She jumped out of surprise, looking up at the looming figure of Sandor Clegane. His burns looked even worse up close and her skin erupted with small bumps.

“My apologies, ser.” Sansa said, unsure of what she was apologizing for as she looked away.

“I’m no ser.” The man growled, stepping around her to stand guard at Joffrey’s door.

Sansa frowned before turning to walk down the hallway.

“You can smell it?”

She froze as he spoke before turning around once more. She did not look at his face, unable to look at the horrible scars once more.

“Pardon?” Sansa said, looking down at her hands.

“The snow? You can smell it?” the man questioned, as skeptical as Joffrey.

She lifted her head and finally looked into his curious eyes, nodding at him as Lady nuzzled her hand.

“The air is sharper and colder when the snow is coming. The rest of my siblings and my father can sense it as well.” Sansa explained, her heart pounding in her chest.

Sandor let out a huff that might have been a laugh from anyone else before drawing his a dagger out of a sheath at his hip. Sansa took a step back with wide eyes as Lady leapt in front of her and bared her teeth, growling at the man that she thought was a threat. He looked at them both before pulling an apple out of his pocket and began cutting it up to eat. His eyes flickered down to Lady as he did so and the direwolf growled once more.

“She does not usually do this.” Sansa said apologetically, pulling her wolf away when she perceived that he was not a threat to either of them at the moment.

“In my experience, animals take after their masters.” He replied, careless of her direwolf’s behavior.

Sansa glanced up at him, wondering what he meant by that. When he threw a slice of the fruit down at Lady’s feet, the animal hesitated before licking at it and eating it. Sansa smiled slightly as Lady moved forward, sniffing around for more.

“I should take her before she eats your entire fruit.” Sansa said, pulling Lady down the passage before he could say another word.

She felt his eyes on her as she walked away, going through the strange interaction in her mind over and over again on the way back to her chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns of the plans for her future and sees a side of Joffrey that she did not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, I love reading them.

Sansa stood before the mirror, turning this way and that as she inspected the dress that she made. It fit her body perfectly, the bodice snug around her torso and the skirt loose and flowing. Her hair was flowing around her shoulders and down her back to her waist. Half of it was pulled up, braided loosely in a crown around her head. The color of the dress brought the out the blue in her eyes, making them even more striking. At the sound of a knock on her door, Sansa turned away from the looking glass and hurried over, pulling it open. A servant was outside of her room waiting to escort her downstairs where the Starks and the royal family would walk into the banquet together. She followed him, descending the stairs carefully until she entered the passageway where the others were waiting. Robb was closes to her, catching sight of her first. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he stepped towards her.

“You look radiant, sister.” He murmured in her ear, kissing her cheek.

Sansa beamed at him before moving onto her mother and father who were standing close the king and queen. She sank into a graceful curtsy, bowing her head to them before straightening up. Her mother looked at her with pride in her eyes, clearly pleased with her dress. Ned simply kissed the top of her head as Joffrey stepped up and held his arm out.  
“I am to escort the lady.” He said, favoring her with a smile.

Sansa returned it, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm.

“I am most delighted to be escorted by such a fine gentleman.” She replied, feeling light and airy as he led her to their place in the procession.

King Robert would escort her mother and Ned would do the same for Cersei. Robb was paired up with Myrcelle and Arya, looking sullen at the back near Bran and Rickon, was paired with the youngest prince, Tommen. She glared at Sansa as she shot her a teasing smile. When they heard the doors opening and the scraping of chairs being pushed away from tables, they all straightened up and prepared to enter. Their walk was slow, ensuring that each and every person was able to see them as they moved towards the higher tables. Ned and Catelyn sat with the king and queen and the children would all be seated slightly below them.

“You look beautiful, my lady.” Joffrey said, looking at her appreciatively.

Sansa smiled back at him, not noticing the slight leer in his gaze as she looked at his black and gold doublet.

“And you quite handsome, my prince.” She replied.

Joffrey seem pleased by her praise and sat down with her, looking around with a smug look as if daring any man in the room to claim a better looking dining companion. Sansa did not pay attention, glancing around at her siblings. Rickon was barely sitting still in his seat, wriggling around as he looked up at his mother longingly. He was not used to banquets such as these and his presence would not be required for long. Sansa almost wanted to take him in her own arms to comfort him.

“Let us eat!” Robert boomed behind them, making Sansa jump.

Cheers echoed around the chamber as the servants made their way to the tables with platters full of food. Sansa was given a cup of sweet summer wine. She sipped at it daintily as she watched the festivities around the room. After almost an hour, she leaned across the table towards Myrcella.

“Your hairnet is beautiful, Princess.” Sansa said with a smile.

The younger girl flushed with happiness, reaching up to touch the expensive golden net inlaid with pearls.

“It was a gift from my uncle.” She said happily.

“Your Uncle Jaime?” Sansa questioned, glancing over at the one they called by two titles, Lion of Lannister to his face and Kingslayer to his back.

Myrcella shook her head.

“Uncle Tyrion.” She corrected.

“Oh.” Sansa said, sitting back as she tried to think of what to say. “I have not had the pleasure to meet the queen’s other brother.”

Joffrey scoffed next to her.

“You should consider yourself lucky. The halfman is miserable company.” He said with a scowl.

Sansa frowned, wondering if it was true. The stories that she heard of Tyrion Lannister were of a man who loved wine and women. It didn’t seem like he would be very miserable at all.

“That’s not true. Uncle Tyrion is very nice. You just don’t like him.” Myrcella said, staring at Joffrey with a hint of annoyance in her young face.

Sansa did not say anything, not wishing to anger either of the royal children.

“My uncle shall be here tonight. He’s from the Night’s Watch and I have not seen him for so long.” She said, changing the subject effortlessly.

“The wall?” Tommen gasped, looking excited.

Sansa nodded at him.

“He took the oath many years ago when my father inherited the lordship of Winterfell. I also think that he wants to speak of a deserter who stumbled onto our lands.” She said, quickly realizing that she shouldn’t have said the last part.

“A deserter?” Joffrey said, his eyes lighting up.

Sansa stared at him for a moment before answering.

“Yes. He ran from beyond the wall all the way to our borders and was brought to my father by his bannermen.” She said, not wanting to talk about this any longer.

It seemed that no matter what she said, it was the wrong subject. Sansa would have been content to keep her mouth shut if Joffrey did not push it.

“Was the sentence carried out? Did the deserter lose his head?” he asked, a vaguely thrilled look in his eye.

Sansa was taken aback and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Myrcella looked horrified.

“The law was fulfilled.” She said solemnly. “My father did it himself. He believes that a man who passes the sentence should carry it through.”

Joffrey stared at her for a moment but before he could question her further, a loud wail sounded from the end of the table. Rickon was past the point of being able to sit at the table. Sansa quickly glanced up at her mother, who nodded at her. Filled with relief, she excused herself before hurrying over to her youngest sibling and gathering him into her arms.

“Shh. It’s all right, I will take you to your bed.” Sansa murmured to him.

“I want to see Shaggydog.” He whimpered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

Sansa hesitated at the door, glancing back at the raised table. He rmother and father were distracted by the king’s boisterous behavior as he pulled a female servant into his lap. Sansa took the chance and stole out of the chamber, slipping out of a door and outside. The night air was cold but it did not bother either of them as she hurried towards the kennels where their direwolves were kept for that night. Sansa hurried towards it, not wanting to take too long. Whereas the cold barely affected her, it could still give Rickon a chill. The man standing guard at the kennel gaped at her when she instructed him to open Shaggydog’s gate.

“Lord Stark instructed for the wolves to be locked up. They upset the royal children.” He said.

She stared him down, holding her brother close to her chest.

“I am Sansa Stark and I instruct for you to open the gate. Or shall I call my father out here and tell him that you refused to appease his eldest daughter?” she demanded.

He quickly opened the gate and Shaggydog bounded out. Sansa knelt down with Rickon and the direwolf licked his face, causing the young boy to laugh and pet his head.

“Say goodnight to him. You both must go to bed.” Sansa said quietly.

“Goodnight, Shaggydog.” Rickon said, waving as she straightened up again.

Sansa ushered the direwolf into the kennel again and turned, relinquishing Rickon to his maid to be taken to bed. She brushed her skirt off and started to return to the banquet when she heard noises behind her. She turned her head curiously, glancing around before walking towards the sound. When she found Jon holding a sword and hitting a straw dummy, Sansa stopped and took a step back. After a moment, she sighed and walked forward again. She didn’t have the closest relationship with her half-brother, unintentionally mimicking her mother’s method of dealing with him. Catelyn preferred to pretend he didn’t exist and Sansa was far too close to her mother to rub his existence in her face.

“What is your quarrel with the straw?” she finally spoke.

Jon turned with a surprised look, expecting to see anyone else there.

“It is not the straw I have an argument with.” He replied, breathing heavily from the exercise.

Sansa looked at him sadly, sympathetic to his plight for the moment.

“It is my mother.” She guessed, knowing that Catelyn deemed it an insult to the royal family if Jon was permitted to attend the banquet.

A bastard seated in their midst was certain to offend them according to her mother. Jon didn’t reply but he didn’t have to. Sansa knew why he was angry.

“What do you think of Prince Joffrey?” she asked, folding her hands on the fence that separated them.

Jon smirked, looking amused by something.

“What?” Sansa asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“I think that he looks like a girl.” he admitted.

She thought about it for a moment, remembering his blonde curls and pale face. Sansa fought back the urge to laugh but it did not last long, causing her body to shake as she let her amusement be shown.

“He smells of perfume.” Sansa said.

Jon laughed as well, shaking his head as he set the sword in his hand down. They both heard a swell of activity from within the castle and looked around.

“I should get back to the banquet.” Sansa sighed. “It is likely the king will be making an embarrassment of the Iron Throne.”

Jon made a face at the thought of King Robert, the man who was supposed to be a fit warrior but rather looked like he was a large pig on account of his girth.

“He does not look like a king.” He said, shaking his head.

Sansa considered it for a moment and decided that he was right.

“Nor does he act like one.” She said before drifting off.

She hesitated once more before glancing back at him.

“The deserter from the Night’s Watch…” she began.

Jon looked up at her, a curious look on his face as he wondered why she was speaking of the man.

“You do not delight in his death, do you?”

He made a face, shaking his head.

“It was necessary, not enjoyable.” Jon said, sounding much like their father.

Sansa nodded in agreement, thinking of Joffrey’s reaction to her words.

“That is what I thought as well.” she said.

Jon waited for more explanation but she did not give it, turning to walk off. As she approached the door, a flurry of snow began falling. Sansa looked up at the sky, smiling slightly as more snowflakes began falling. She did not walk inside yet, letting them caress her face and melt in her hair. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned to see a rather short man walking towards her with a smug look on his face.

“Lady Sansa.” He said, bowing his head to her as he reached the door as well. “You must be dreadfully cold in that beautiful dress of yours.”

She flushed, smiling down at him before glancing around at the quickly falling snow.

“It does not bother me, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa replied before opening the door for them both.

As soon as they were inside, she glanced around, finding the large form of Joffrey’s shield sitting at one of the lower tables with other Lannister soldiers. She walked past them quietly as she made her way back up to the higher tables. Just as she passed Sandor, she bent over slightly.

“Look outside, ser.” She whispered in his ear, causing him to tense up.

Sansa continued on her path, only glancing back at him with a slight smile to see him staring after her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. As soon as she sat down next to Joffrey once more, her gaze flickered around to see the man looking outside of a window, pushing the curtain aside to see the snow falling heavily. His eyes glanced over to her and she saw a hint of amusement in them before it disappeared.

\----------

Sansa’s face must have betrayed her shock and confusion when she was pulled away from the sewing lessons with a delighted Septa Mordane and Myrcella as well as Jeyne and Arya. Her younger sister looked jealous but Sansa barely noticed, wondering why she was being summoned to her father’s solar. She hurried up the steps and knocked on the door, entering at the invitation to see that both her mother and father were waiting on her as well as Maester Luwin, a most trusted member of the Stark household.

“Has something happened?” she asked, concerned at the solemn looks on their faces.

Ned glanced at his wife before taking a deep breath.

“As I spoke with the king yesterday, he suggested that our houses should be allied once more.” He said, walking forward to steer her to a chair.

“Is there a war to be fought?” Sansa asked, frowing.

“No, my child.” He replied as they sat together.

Catelyn stood behind Sansa’s chair as Maester Luwin hovered by the window.

“He suggests that our houses be allied by marriage… between his son and my daughter.”

It did not take long for Sansa to realize that her father didn’t mean Arya and Tommen.

“King Robert wishes for me to marry Joffrey.” She realized.

Ned nodded, confirming her words.

“If the betrothal is agreed upon, you will be the queen of all Westeros.” Catelyn said, stroking her hair.

Sansa glanced up at her before looking away, staring down at her hands.

“I always thought… well I knew that I would be married one day but I always thought that I would remain in the north.” She admitted.

Her mother and father exchanged looks at her words.

“This match is a good one, Sansa. There would be no sense in turning it down.” her mother said as if the very words pained her.

She nodded, still not looking at either of them. Sansa was the first to admit that she’d always dreamed of having her own great castle and wearing beautiful dresses and jewels. She never truly imagined that the visions would come true and now that she could live that life, Sansa was very unsure as to what she actually wanted. Though, in the back of her mind she knew that there wasn’t much of a choice. She stood slowly, her body shaking slightly.

“May I be excused? I need to think.” Sansa said quietly.

Catelyn looked like she wanted to say something to comfort her daughter but Ned cut her off.

“You may.” He answered.

Sansa gave him a grateful look before turning to walk out of the solar. As soon as the door was shut, she flew down the stairs and began hurrying through the corridors of the castle, unsure as to where she was going. When she saw Arya and Jon gathered at a window overlooking the yard, Sansa stopped and looked at them curiously. That was when she heard the sounds coming in from outside. She moved to another window, peeking out to see that Robb and Theon were in the yard with Joffrey and a few Lannister guards. Ser Rodrick was there as well. From what she could tell, the master-at-arms was refusing Robb’s plea to allow them live steel instead of blunted tourney swords.

“Are you training women here?” a familiar voice taunted.

Her eyes were drawn to Joffrey’s shield who was staring at Ser Rodrick challengingly.

“Apparently he’s training children.” Joffrey said, a smug look on his face as he glanced at Robb. “Come to me when you’re a bit older, Stark.”

Robb’s curses filled the air and Sansa’s gasp echoed around the passage, drawing Jon and Arya’s attention to her.

“Sansa?” her sister said, walking to her as she stared out at the scene.

Tears burned her eyes as Joffrey threw a few last taunting remarks over his shoulder to her brother. Sansa moved away from the window, slumping against the wall. Arya knelt with her, looking concerned at her pale face and watery eyes.

“I have to marry him.” she said in a hushed whisper.

Jon and Arya exchanged a stunned look at the revelation.

\----------

Sansa stood at the window of her bedchamber, watching as the men readied themselves for their hunt. She was relieved that the king and the prince would be gone for the day. She had been hiding in her room for the past few days, claiming a headache that kept her bedridden. Once they were gone, she sat down to brush her hair out. Behind her, Lady whimpered from where she was at the door. She turned to Sansa and fixed her with a look before pawing at the door.

“What is it?” she wondered, standing to walk to her.

Lady let out another sound that was closer to a howl as she desperately tried to get out of the room. Sansa frowned at her, knowing that something was wrong. She quickly pulled on a pair of boots as well as a cloak before opening the door. Her direwolf darted out, hurrying down the hallway. Sansa ran after her, slipping around servants and guards. Lady went through the first outside door she could find, speeding up when her paws touched the cold ground.

“Lady!” Sansa called after her, lifting her skirts up to her ankles so that she could speed after her.

She could tell that the animal was keeping her speed slow enough for her to follow and wondered what exactly Lady was leading her to. She looked up, seeing the First Keep looming a great distance away. It was the oldest part of Winterfell, no longer in use. Sansa stopped short, seeing something that made her heart drop.

“Bran.” She whispered, knowing that it was her little brother climbing the side of the Keep’s wall.

Sansa hurried faster, abandoning all propriety as she hitched her skirts up to her knees as she ran as fast as she ever had before.

“Brandon!” Sansa shouted.

He didn’t hear her, too high up to hear anything on the ground. Suddenly, he came to a window at the top and froze. Sansa was close, only a short distance away. But even that distance couldn’t do anything for her when she saw a pale hand shove him out of the window. Sansa let out a bloodcurdling scream when she saw her brother falling from the great distance. Lady let out a loud bark and she heard an answering howl from Bran’s unnamed direwolf, who was waiting for him at the bottom of the tower. She heard a sickening crack just as she rounded the trees that surrounded the tower. When she saw her brother’s broken body lying on the ground, she let out another scream and fell to her knees. Lady’s howls mingled with those of Bran’s direwolf as they circled his unmoving form.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stark family deals with the aftermath of Bran's fall and Sansa searches for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, they are going to leave for King's Landing and I promise (a million times) that there will be a lot more SanSan scenes from now on. I needed to get through a certain amount to set up the story before I got to the really good parts.

The screams echoed through the courtyard and sent the birds flying away from the godswood. Even in Winter Town, the common people heard the piercing sounds. Several guards from the East Gate came running while the rest mounted their horses to fetch their Lord. When the hurried men reached the lichyard outside of the First Keep, Sansa was silent. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared at her brother’s unconscious figure. She heard the shouts of the men around her, calling for the Maester, calling for her mother. Sansa wanted to protest. Catelyn should not come, she should not see her son this way. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak or even move. Lady was at her side, whining softly as she watched the activity flurry and Bran. His direwolf was lying beside him, pitiful howls still escaping from his mouth.

She felt hands on her shoulder, someone was trying to rouse her. Another scream echoed around the castle grounds as her mother ran up with Maester Luwin, Arya just behind her. Catelyn fell to her knees beside Bran as she let out wails of devastation. Her little sister knelt next to her, putting her hand over Sansa’s. She barely noticed. The hunting party didn’t go far, they didn’t have the chance before they were pulled back. They heard their return, the thundering of hooves. The direwolves were the first to come. Grey Wind, Shaggydog, Ghost, and Nymeria joined their siblings, sitting on their haunches next to Lady.

Her eyes barely tracked the sweep of her father’s cloak over the snow before he was helping her mother to stand. Murmurs spread through the gathering crowd as Bran was carefully lifted by two men and carried away. Maester Luwin followed, his face set in a solemn grimace. Catelyn was sobbing into Ned’s chest as he led her away as well. Robb and Jon were there, one of the guards explaining what he’d seen when he came to the scene. When they learned that it was Sansa’s screams that drew them and not a maid, they looked at her with shock. She still did not move, her eyes fixed on the ground where blood stained the snow. Arya’s pleas for her to look at her, to talk, to move, all fell on deaf ears.

It was not until Robb crouched in front of her that she looked away from where her brother had fallen. His hands were on her cheeks and she still could not hear a word he was saying but she knew that he wanted to get her out of the snow. Her gown was thin and likely soaked through. When he took her hands in his, she allowed him to pull her up on shaking legs. Sansa walked with him on one side and Arya on the other. Jon and Theon were behind them, for once not fighting with each other as they walked slowly. The remnants of the hunting party were still in the courtyard. The King was discussing something with one of his kingsguard, for once looking somber and behaving appropriately.

Jaime and Cersei were nowhere to be seen, suspiciously absent despite the ruckus caused by Bran’s fall. Suddenly, something flashed in her mind and her head lifted, looking back at the First Keep. Her siblings stopped along with her, wondering why she was no longer moving. Finally, a voice broke through her haze.

“I do not why we had to end the hunt for this. Can the boy not be taken care of while we ride?” a grating voice said.

Sansa’s head snapped around and she glared at Joffrey along with the rest of her siblings. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she flew at the crown prince. There was no one between them, though his sworn shield was at his side and would likely stop her before her hands touched him. She entertained the thought of sinking her nails into his face and scratching it, of ripping his golden hair from its roots, of making Joffrey scream and beg for mercy as she caused him pain. But she did none of that. She remained still, her eyes piercing into the prince’s. He squirmed in place, unnerved by the coldness in the sharp blue color that seemed to send ice running through his veins.

When she finally broke her gaze, Robb led her into the castle. Her maids were there, ready to take her up to her chambers. There was a warm bath being drawn but Sansa didn’t react, standing still as they unlaced her from the sodden dress. It fell to the ground and she stepped out of it at their urging. She pulled the rest of her clothing off, tossing her shift to the ground and bundling her smallclothes. The water was too warm for a few minutes, stinging her cold skin as she immersed her body in the tub. She laid her head back against the edge and closed her eyes, dwelling on her desire to hurt Joffrey only minutes before.

Sansa never had such horrible thoughts before but even as she considered them, she could not bring herself to feel remorseful. In fact, she knew that if she saw him now, her anger would spike once again. As it was, Joffrey would have enough of a hard time with Robb, Jon, and Arya considering that they heard his words as well. But for all of their fury, they knew that they couldn’t really do anything to him. She was pulled away from her thoughts when a maid brought her favorite lavender soap. Sansa washed off quickly, climbing out of the water before it cooled. She was dressed in a shift and a dark blue dressing gown was laced at her front. Her ladies knew that she would not be leaving her chambers that day.

She sat on her bed, her knees curled to her chest and her toes playing with the heavy furs that covered the feather mattress. Sansa did not know how much time passed before there was a knock on her door. She nodded at a maid who opened it and stepped aside. When her father entered, Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. He looked at her sadly, walking to the bed. When he spoke, she listened.

“Bran is sleeping.” He said, sitting on the bed next to her.

Sansa didn’t reply at first, looking over at him. When she finally spoke, her voice was rough and hoarse.

“Will he live?”

Ned sighed, reaching out to brush his hand over her damp curls.

“The Maester is unsure.” He said quietly.

Finally, his words pierced her numbness and she found herself leaning into him. As soon as her face was buried in his chest, her body began heaving with the force of her sobs. He held her close, murmuring soothing words as he rubbed her back. Sansa’s cries were devastating, making her ladies tear up. That was when the direwolves began howling as loudly as they could.

\----------

She could not bring herself to enter Bran’s room. She could not look into her mother’s eyes and see the haunted look that Robb described. Sansa had to get out of her chambers. The departure for King’s Landing had been delayed in the wake of Bran’s accident. She wore a simple dark green dress, a black shawl draped over her shoulders as she stepped out of the castle for the first time in days. Lady was with her, restless as she listened to the howling of Bran’s direwolf. It was endless, a mourning sound for his broken master. Sansa stood outside of the doors for several minutes, debating whether or not to go back inside. When her head turned and she saw the First Keep, she took a deep breath and pushed herself forward. When someone fell into step with her, she glanced over to see Arya there.

“Where are you going?” her sister asked.

“I need to see something.” Sansa answered.

They ascended the tower together, entering the room that Bran had been looking into before his fall.

“Why are we in here?” Arya questioned.

Sansa glanced over at her, taking a deep breath.

“Bran did not fall. He is surefooted and he knows every inch of Winterfell’s walls. He does not fall.” She said, hoping that he sister would grasp her meaning.

Arya seemed torn between understanding and confusion.

“He was pushed?” she said quietly.

Sansa didn’t have to answer her. She walked to the window, pushing it open to let the air in.

“I saw a hand. That is all that I saw.” She murmured.

Sansa turned back, inspecting the room. It was nothing particularly impressive, an old bedchamber with a dusty bed, a broken looking glass, and a table. She drifted towards the bed, putting her hand on a splintered post.

“There is nothing here, Sansa.” Arya said, trying to convince her.

Being up here would do nothing but bring them more sadness over their brother’s uncertain fate. Sansa sighed, nodding as she turned for the door. Arya walked through first, not seeing Sansa stop short as she caught sight of something. She leaned onto the bed, plucking one long hair off of the mattress. A strand of hair the color of spun gold.

\-----------

The three eldest trueborn Stark children stood before their father with disbelief written across their faces.

“The king cannot do this. We cannot leave now.” Sansa protested.

“They cannot stay away from King’s Landing forever.” Ned sighed, rubbing his forehead.

They were in his solar along with Ser Rodrick and Maester Luwin.

“Then let them go back. Bran has not yet awoken and I want to be here when he does.” Arya said.

“Mother is not ready for you to leave and neither am I. Father, Winterfell needs you right now.” Robb tried to convince him.

“Winterfell needs all of us.” Sansa agreed.

Ned shook his head.

“I do not have the ability to argue with the king. We shall leave in two days time and I don’t want to hear another word about it. The king and queen are eager to return to the Red Keep where the plans for your wedding will begin.” He said, looking at Sansa.

She felt fury radiating off of her. Sansa did not say another word, turning to run out of the solar. She heard her father calling her but didn’t respond, hurtling down the passage with her skirts bunched in her hands. Sansa did not stop running until she reached the godswood, collapsing on her knees at the Heart Tree. Her head bowed as she fought to take a breath. Her prayers were quick, going through her head one after another as she pleaded for her brother’s life and for deliverance from the future planned for her.

Before she knew it, she was outside and instructing Hodor to saddle her mare. As soon as the palamino was led out, Sansa did not wait for the large stable hand to lift her onto the seat. She planted her foot in the stirrup and lifted herself over the saddle with little difficulty, the strength in her arms increased by her practice with the bow and arrow.

“Hodor!” he called out of surprise.

Sansa did not listen to him, seizing the reigns and throwing a disdainful look back at the castle before sending the horse galloping out of the grounds. As she rode through Winter Town, the commoners called their condolences to her, wishing for good fortune to fall on the Starks once more. She could hardly listen to it and urged Snowflake to gallop away. They rode for a long time, skirting around the wolfswood and up to the snow-covered hills. Every time Sansa would slow her horse down and think to return to Winterfell, anger would fill her once more and she’d put even more distance between herself and the castle.

It was nearing evening when she found herself unwilling turning back to trot towards her home. She knew that there were bound to be people looking for her by now and she didn’t want to be escorted back like a child. When Sansa saw two shadowed figures on horses galloping towards her, she pulled Snowflake to a stop, thinking of wildlings and bandits. Her hand went to her saddle, where a dagger was strapped into the leather. Robb put it there ages ago, wanting his sister to be protected always. When the men drew closer, she relaxed at their faces.

“Jory.” Sansa sighed, sending suspicious glances to Sandor Clegane.

“You gave everyone a fright, my lady.” He said, looking relieved to have found her.

She rolled her eyes, removing her hand from the hilt of the dagger before urging her mare forward.

“I know these hills better than anyone.” Sansa said, annoyance clear in her voice as she headed towards the castle with the two men on either side of her.

When they came through the gates, she saw her siblings peeking out with relieved and wary looks. She knew that she was bound to get a stern lecture from her father. Her mother would be involved as well, if Catelyn could bring herself to do anything but sit at Bran’s bedside and weep over him. As they led their horses to the stables, Jory helped her down. He was called away, leaving her with Sandor as he climbed off of his own great horse.

“Why did you come?” she asked, unable to keep her curiosity at bay.

He glanced over at her as he pulled the saddle off of the black stallion.

“You are the betrothed of the prince. I am the prince’s sworn shield. I am tasked with protecting you as well.” he said.

Sansa felt shocked at the revelation for a moment before her eyes narrowed.

“Your protection is neither needed nor is it desired.” She hissed at him before turning to walk off with a huff.

She stopped short, realizing that her behavior that day had been less than ladylike. She could almost hear her Septa screeching her disapproval. Sansa took a deep breath, her cheeks burning as she faced the Hound once more.

“I apologize, ser. Your efforts to ensure my safety are much appreciated and I will not show you such disrespect in the future.”

Sandor stared at her for a moment, surprised at her switch in attitudes. Then he let out a bark of laughter that had her embarrassed flush spreading to her chest.

“Don’t bother with your pretty little words on me, lass. I’m simply a dog who obeys his masters. And don’t call me ser.” He said before moving to go into the stables.

She stared after him, feeling angry once again. The urge to follow him and rage against his rude words filled her every being but she knew that she should not. She’d already caused enough trouble for yesterday. Sandor Clegane would be a problem to solve the next day. As she trudged back to the castle to meet her fate, Sansa remembered that she would be leaving Winterfell the next day. Her small hands formed fists and she glared at any Lannister she came across, blaming everything on their presence.

\----------

When she was invited to break her fast with Queen Cersei, Sansa wasn’t sure why. She did not want to go but etiquette dictated that she dare not refuse. So Sansa found herself lightly knocking on the door of the queen’s chambers, ushered in by several handmaidens who were eager to keep the warmth from the fire in the room. Cersei herself was already seated at a table, food spread out before her and a cup of wine in her hand. She wore a deep red gown and her hair was flowing over her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes followed Sansa as she walked to her and sank into a curtsy.

“Your Grace, I am very grateful for your invitation. This is an honor.” She said politely.

“Sansa, darling,” Cersei said studying her with a smile playing on her lips. “Please be seated. I have been dying to get you alone.”

Sansa somehow didn’t feel comforted by the words as she sank into a chair across from the queen.

“How is your dear brother?” Cersei didn’t give her a chance to finish. “I saw him yesterday on a visit to your mother. It is dreadful, what happened to him. And for you to find him that way.”

She clicked her tongue and looked truly mournful. At that moment, Sansa came to a realization. Cersei Lannister was either a truly kind woman who felt sympathy for the Starks or she thought herself to be greatest actress in Westeros. Sansa had a pretty good idea of which one it was, judging by her find in the room of the First Keep.

“Maester Luwin is still hopeful.” Sansa said simply, reaching for her cup of wine.

Cersei smiled at her as she took a sip of the sweet Arbor Gold wine. It was not a delicacy often found in the North. The king and queen must have brought it. They sat in silence for several minutes.

“These chambers are quite nice but I noticed that they haven’t been used in quite a while.” Cersei said, glancing around.

Sansa stared at her, hearing a hint of falseness in her voice.

“They were my Aunt Lyanna’s chambers.” She said bluntly, waiting on her reaction.

Cersei’s eyes flickered back to her.

“Is that so?” she said.

Sansa nodded once, popping a grape into her mouth.

“They’ve been left empty for years. My mother and father offered them to both me and Arya but we couldn’t imagine it.” She said, glancing around.

“Why is that?” Cersei asked, leaning forward.

She looked at the queen.

“Winterfell is an old castle and old castles have ghosts, Your Grace. I’m sure you can understand that, living in the Red Keep. If you close your eyes in the right place and listen, you can hear their whispers.”

A mix of emotions mingled on Cersei’s face as she considered Sansa’s words.

“And what ghosts have you heard, Sansa?” she asked.

“It’s not who I’ve heard, it’s what I’ve heard.” Sansa replied.

The other woman looked slightly surprised at her words.

“Nothing goes unnoticed in this castle.” she said, staring straight into the queen’s eyes.

Cersei quirked an eyebrow at her, somehow realizing and accepting the game that Sansa was playing.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I could say about the Red Keep.” She said.

Sansa sat back, placing her cup back on the table.

“I suppose that visitors of both castles must be careful where they tread.” She replied.

“I think that would be smart.” Cersei agreed.

They stared at each other for several more moments before Sansa straightened up.

“May you excuse me, Your Grace? I would like to bid my lady mother goodbye.”

The queen nodded in agreement, dismissing her from the room. As Sansa walked down the hallway, she felt exhilarated and fearful at the same time. She did not know what challenge they laid out in front of each other but she was determined that she would not back down so easily.

\----------

When she approached Bran’s room, she saw Jon hovering outside of it.

“What are you doing?”

He looked over at her with a panicked glint in his eyes as he stepped away from the door.

“I leave in the morrow as well. I wanted to say goodbye… to Bran.” Jon answered, looking down at his feet as he scuffed his boots against the stone floor.

Sansa didn’t know why he needed to add on the last part. She certainly knew that he wasn’t going to bid goodbye to her mother.

“Wait around the corner.” She sighed, knowing exactly what was blocking him from going into the room.

Jon looked up at her with a stunned expression.

“What?” he said, his shock forcing the word out of his mouth.

Sansa huffed and made a gesture. He finally understood, hurrying past her to slip around the corner where no one would see him were they walking down the corridor. Sansa walked to the door, not bothering to knock before pushing it open. Her mother was sitting by Bran’s bed with her needlework, desperately sewing something as she watched his still form. Sansa walked to the other side of the bed, leaning over to kiss Bran’s head. She looked up at her mother, swallowing hard at her pale face and deep shadows around her eyes.

“Mother,” she sighed, walking around the bed to her.

She stood behind her chair, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pressing their cheeks together. Catelyn reached up, patting Sana’s hair numbly.

“Go rest, take a bath.” She urged.

“No.” her mother said, shaking her head. “I can’t leave him.”

Sansa moved around, kneeling before her. She pulled the embroidery away and set it on a table, taking her mother’s hands in her own.

“I will remain here with Bran. You need to rest and if you do not, they will be forced to give you milk of the poppy again. I know how you hate it so. Please, mother.”

Catelyn stared at Bran for several moments before glancing down at her.

“You will stay.” She whispered, trying to make it sound like a command.

It came out as more of a plea but it had the same effect.

“I will stay.” Sansa nodded.

When she finally got her to her feet and out the door, she instructed a passing servant to see the Lady Stark to her room. As soon as Catelyn was down the hallway, Sansa let out a soft whistle and disappeared back into the room. It was a well-known signal among the children. When they were younger, they would sneak around the castle and try to get into the kitchens to steal food. For Sansa, it was always lemoncakes. Robb, Jon, and Theon would sneak ale and Arya and Bran would take anything they could get their hands on. Rickon was always too young to go on the adventure with them.

As she settled into the chair that her mother vacated, Jon walked into the room and closed the door slowly. He walked to the other side of the bed, sitting beside Bran on the furs as he took their younger brother’s hand. He leaned down, kissing his forehead gently in the same spot that Sansa did before.

“Bran,” he said, bowing his head over his form. “I’m sorry I didn’t come before. I was afraid.”

Sansa stared across the bed, her lip trembling and her eyes burning as she watched tears fall down his cheeks.

“Don’t die, Bran. Please. We’re all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone…”

She put a hand over her mouth, unable to tear her eyes away from her half-brother as he spoke to Bran. Jon took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I have to go soon, with Uncle Benjen. I’m to go north to the Wall. We have to leave on the morrow, before the snows come.”

Sansa looked away, remembering how excited Bran had been to make the journey. He wanted to see the Trident, the Riverlands, the Kingswood, and King’s Landing. He wanted to see the giant dragon skulls that were rumored to be stored in the cellars of the Red Keep. He wanted to see Ser Barristan the Bold and the rest of the kingsguard. When she looked up again, Jon was standing up and turning to leave.

“Thank you.” he whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t hear.

Sansa stared after him for a moment before speaking.

“Jon.”

He turned back to look at her, his grey eyes so like their father’s.

“Good luck… at the Wall.” Sansa said, unsure of what else to say.

He nodded at her.

“Good luck in King’s Landing.” Jon replied, looking at her sadly.

She knew why. Everyone was looking at her that way after Joffrey’s outburst. They knew what she knew. What everyone seemed to know and didn’t want to speak of.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be in black.” Sansa said, smiling slightly.

Jon nodded in agreement, glancing down at his already dark clothing.

“And you might be a queen.” he said before turning to walk out.

Sansa watched him go, a heavy weight settling in her chest at the truth of his words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa leaves Winterfell with her father and sister. On the journey, the sisters manage to find trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments.

Sansa did not want to cry. She’d done enough of that in the last few days for a lifetime. As she walked out of the keep, she slipped leather gloves onto her hands and fastened a traveling cloak around her throat. Lady greeted her happily, her head nearly at Sansa’s waist by now. She glanced up at the castle, her eyes going to Bran’s window where her lady mother would remain. They already said their goodbyes but she hardly heard them. Robb and Rickon were waiting, the former in his nurse’s arms as he squirmed impatiently. Rickon did not understand that when his father and sisters left, he would not be accompanying them. Sansa sighed sadly, walking to her own horse to brush her hand over Snowflake’s nose. She felt a presence at her side and her head turned to see Robb there.

They stared at each other for several moments, silence hanging between them as they searched for what to say. Years of playing with her older brother in this very courtyard, of him tugging on her curls and kissing her forehead, rescuing her from invisible dragons and ugly sorcerers, all flowed through her head. Sansa felt her eyes burning and her lip trembling as she threw her arms around Robb’s shoulders. He held her close, burying his face in her hair. She knew that if she begged him to keep her here, he would likely draw his sword and challenge even the king. Where Brandon and Ned fought for Lyanna, Robb wouldn’t hesitate to fight for her. Her tears fell onto his cloak as she trembled in his arms.

“We will see each other again, sister.” Robb murmured in her ear.

Sansa pulled away, staring at him with sadness in her eyes.

“For my wedding.” She said, her voice catching on the last word.

Robb’s eyes flickered past her and she knew that he was glaring accusingly at Joffrey where he was on his horse. Before either of them could say another word, a loud wail sounded and Rickon was running towards them. Sansa dropped down to her knees before she knew it and embraced him tightly.

“No go!” he yelled. “Hate king.”

Sansa shushed him, stroking his curls.

“I’ll be home soon, Rickon.” She lied, knowing that she would likely never see the walls of Winterfell again.

Rickon wouldn’t truly remember her, not as she was now. When she drew away, Sansa relinquished him to his nurse’s arms once more. When she glanced around, Robb was hugging Jon tightly. She felt a pang in her chest, suddenly wishing that she’d treated her half-brother better in their time at Winterfell. Now he would be even further north and she would be travelling south.

“Are you ready for the journey, my lady?” a voice said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Sansa turned, glancing up at Joffrey where he was sitting on his white stallion. He hadn’t spoken to her since Bran’s fall but now he looked at her with a charming smile as if nothing happened. Her eyes flickered past him to where Cersei was watching them, her brother at her side.

“Of course, Your Grace. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to ride to King’s Landing with the king’s royal retinue.” Sansa forced out, forcing a sweet smile onto her face. Joffrey looked pleased at her answer, nodding at her.

“Dog, help my lady with her horse.” He said before turning to trot off smugly.

Sansa’s face melted into one of cold indifference as she pulled her long hair over her shoulder and quickly braided it, securing it with a grey ribbon with a white direwolf on one end and her initials on the other. It was a gift for her last name-day from her siblings. Her lady mother sewed it with her steady hand. She glanced over at the Hound as he approached, his armor clinking and his broadsword slapping against his thigh.

“Pardon me, ser.” Sansa said, holding her hand up for him to stop.

She backed away from him, turning to walk to Robb and Jon where they were beckoning her to them. They both looked at her hesitantly, as though they wanted to say something.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Come here.” Robb said, taking her hand.

They disappeared behind the queen’s wheelhouse. Just as Sansa opened her mouth to ask what was going on, Robb produced a dagger within a sheath that had leather straps hanging off of it. Sansa frowned, wondering what it was for.

“I don’t trust that royal prick.” Robb said, kneeling down at her feet.

Sansa gasped when he pushed her skirts up and told her to hold them at her knee. She glanced around, her cheeks burning as she hoped that no one came across this strange scene. Jon crouched down as well, helping Robb as they eased her boot off. Her half-brother balanced her, shooting an apologetic look up at her as Robb put her foot on his thigh.

“I see something in his eyes that I don’t like and I do not want to send my sister with him unprotected.” He explained, fastening the sheath around her shin.

“Robb.” Sansa said, putting her hand on his cheek.

He looked up at her, his face unreadable before he put her riding boot on once again and straightened up. His hands cradled her cheeks as he looked into her eyes.

“I don’t care if he’s a prince or not, if he tries to do anything that you do not consent to, use it.” Robb said.

“That is treason, Robb.” Sansa hissed.

“It’s protection and no one can deny that he deserves it if you tell the truth of his actions.” Jon broke in.

She glanced between them before nodding, throwing her arms around Robb first and Jon second. Her half-brother was shocked, frozen for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her as well. She gave them smiles, her eyes filling with tears once more as Robb led her out and to her horse. Clegane was waiting, his arms crossed in front of him as his eyes flickered to them.

“Take care of yourself, sister.” Robb said, kissing her cheek.

“You as well, brother. Both of you.” Sansa replied, squeezing their hands before allowing them to walk off.

She took a deep breath, turning back to her horse and the prince’s sworn shield.

“Where did they hide it?” he asked knowingly.

Sansa looked up at him, blinking innocently.

“Hide what?” she asked.

He simply arched an eyebrow at her before bending down. Sansa let out a noise of surprise as he effortlessly lifted her onto the horse. Her hands gripped at his wrists, steadying herself as her heart thumped in her chest. He held her as she lifted her other leg over the saddle and situated herself.

“Thank you, ser.” Sansa breathed.

He glowered up at her, removing his hands from her waist.

“I’m not a ser, girl. I’m not one of your bloody knights from your stories.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

“Fine. Thank you, non-ser.” Sansa snapped.

Sandor stared at her for several moments before letting out a bark of laughter and turning to walk off. Sansa glowered at him, arranging her skirts and taking the reins in her hands.

“Are you all right?” her father’s voice asked.

He was next to her on his great horse, staring after Clegane with narrowed eyes. Sansa was tempted not to answer him, to ignore him and blame him for pulling her away from her home. But she knew that was unfair to her father. He was in a difficult situation and he was trying his hardest to do what was best, as always. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“I am fine, Father.” Sansa assured him.

Her eyes flickered around to their travelling companions, watching as Cersei climbed into the wheelhouse with Myrcelle and Joffrey joined Jaime near the kingsguard. When the king shouted for them to begin their journey, her eyes narrowed at the large Baratheon man. She knew, as she glared upon his back, that she would never forgive the king of all Westeros.

\----------

Sansa was restless. The king had stopped for another day of hunting with her father and they were stuck at a camp near the kingsroad. Arya was off with other children that she’d made friends with, leaving Sansa alone. She tried to spend time with Myrcella and her companions but they were all too young for her to really enjoy. So she was walking among the camp with Lady at her side. Across the camp, beside the wheelhouse, she could see the queen with her brother, both leaning towards each other and talking in hushed tones. She narrowed her eyes at them before glancing away, wanting to do something to keep her hands busy. Sansa was not in the mood for embroidery, like Septa Mordane always suggested.

When she spotted something leaning against a tent, Sansa stopped short and stared at it before glancing around. She inched towards the weapon, picking it up quickly as she could. The quiver of bows was tossed over her shoulder and she ran, hurrying towards the trees before anyone could truly catch her. Sansa took a deep breath, leaning against a tree with a triumphant smile.

“Come on, Lady.” She urged, going deeper into the trees.

They would not be moving from this spot for several days so she knew she was safe hidden away in the trees for a while. Once she found a small clearing, Sansa picked out a tree and stood a long way away from it. She drew an arrow, notching it before she lifted the bow. It felt strange, doing this after so many months. She hadn’t been able to go into the practice yard for the entire visit of the royal family and there hadn’t been a chance to life a bow and arrow until now. Sansa let it go and it flew forward, missing the tree entirely. She huffed and her shoulders drooped for a moment before she prepared once again. The only warning she had to another person in the clearing was Lady’s low growl.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

She gasped, whirling around with the arrow pointed at the intruder. The Hound didn’t look bothered by the weapon pointed at his chest. Sansa took a deep breath, lowering it. When she processed what he said, a frown formed on her face.

“I know how to do it.” she said, turning around once again.

“Is that why you missed?” he replied.

She didn’t answer, aiming once again. Instead of following the arrow with her eyes, she concentrated on where she wanted it to strike. This time, when Sansa released the string, the arrow flew forward and buried in the bark of the tree. She let out a triumphant noise, nodding as she pulled another arrow out.

“Why did you steal a bow from the camp?” Sandor asked, sitting on a stump to eat a chunk of bread.

“I had nothing else to do.” Sansa answered, flushing slightly as she felt his eyes on her.

They both fell silent, the only sound in the air the sound of the arrow striking the tree for a second time.

“You aren’t bad.” He commented.

She looked over at him, wondering if he was teasing her.

“My brothers taught me.” Sansa said, feeling self-conscious.

“Did they teach you how to use that dagger too?”

She flushed, glancing down at the ground as she became aware of the blade sheathed and strapped against her calf.

“No. I think it’s fairly self-explanatory.” Sansa replied.

He stood up, holding his hand out.

“Let me see it.” he said.

She squinted up at him.

“Why should I do such a thing, non-ser? Is it a sworn shield’s right to order a lady around?” Sansa demanded, feeling her anger spike within her.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she realized that she was being rude towards him again. When she opened her mouth once more, he cut her off.

“No apologies. You shouldn’t apologize for speaking the truth.” Sandor said.

Sansa did not know how to reply to that. She’d always been taught to be polite and ladylike. In fact, it seems that the one person she couldn’t do that around was the man standing before her. She hesitated, glancing around before propping her foot up on a rock. She gave him a quick look before slipping her hand beneath her skirts and into her boot. Once she withdrew the dagger, he held his hand out for it.

“It is well made, small enough to go unnoticed but still sharp enough to kill.” Sandor said, balancing it in his hand.

Sansa snatched it back as if the word burned her.

“To protect, not kill.” She corrected him.

He stared at her with an impatient look.

“If you’re going to carry around weapons like that, you’re going to have to know how to use them, girl. Not just to protect, either.”

Sansa swallowed hard, not wanting to think of killing people. Surely that was not what her brothers had in mind when they gave her the dagger. Especially since they gave it to her out of distrust for Joffrey.

“Don’t I just… stab them with this part?” she asked, gesturing to the pointed blade.

He didn’t answer, reaching out towards her. Sansa fought the urge to flinch away, suddenly very aware that she was in an isolated place with a large man that she barely knew. Her heart thumped in her chest as he closed his hand around hers.

“You need to know where to stab them.” Sandor said, pulling her closer.

Sansa took a sharp breath as he lightly pressed the blade to his stomach.

“If you want them to suffer, to bleed out slowly, the knife goes in here.” He instructed.

She looked up at him with surprise.

“I don’t want to cause suffering.” Sansa said.

“Wait until you’re faced with a hatred so deep that you cannot imagine anything but killing the man before you. Then you will change your mind.”

She frowned at him, glancing at the scars that marred half of his face. Sandor saw the glance and his eyes narrowed, moving the knife upwards to his throat.

“This is a quick death.” He said, making a motion to drag the blade across his neck. “Do it fast and clean. Merciful.”

Sansa caught her bottom lip between her teeth, watching as he released her hand.

“Do you know where the heart is, girl?”

“Sansa.” She corrected, looking up at him.

His brow furrowed slightly.

“I have a name, you don’t have to keep calling me girl.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he would smile but he did not.

“Do you know where the heart is, Sansa?” Sandor questioned.

Instead of reaching with the blade, Sansa lifted her other hand and pressed it over his armored chest. Sandor stared down at her for a moment, their eyes meeting as they both fell silent.

“Try to get me, in the heart.” He finally spoke again.

Sansa pulled away, staring at him with a horrified look.

“I cannot do that.” she said, shaking her head.

“You aren’t going to stab me. I’ve dealt with many enemies who are far tougher than a young girl.” Sandor scoffed

She stared at him angrily.

“You are ridiculous. This is ridiculous.” Sansa said, turning away.

He gripped her arm, turning her back around. She gasped at the treatment, not used to men being this way with her.

“You do not have the luxury of being a perfect little lady right now. You are going into a den of lions who would love nothing more than to tear you apart. You can either fight back or you can succumb to them but I think I have an idea of which you would rather do.” Sandor said, staring into her eyes.

Sansa stared back, her blue eyes wide as she considered what he said.

“The heart?” she finally whispered.

He nodded once, letting her go and stepping away. Sansa took a deep breath, gripping the dagger in her hand. When she lifted it and launched at him, one hand grabbed her arm and spun her around, the other pressing against her stomach to yank her back against his hard chest. Sansa gasped, staring out at the clearing with a stunned look.

“Too obvious. Use your stature to your strength. A man like me can afford to go for a blatant attack but you are too easy to stop.” Sandor said, his lips at her ear.

Sansa shivered in his arms, letting out a breath that she hadn’t known she was holding when he released her. She staggered away, turning to face him. He nodded at her, inviting her to attack again. Her hands were shaking as she prepared herself and stepped forward once more. She was prepared for his hands this time, ducking them and darting to the side before aiming for his heart once more. This time his hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her in, his other arm wrapping around her back to steady her. Sansa’s heart felt like it might jump out of her chest as he held her close, keeping her steady with a firm grip. She looked up at him, seeing that his face was not far from hers.

“That was better.” Sandor said, nodding at her.

He started to release her but Sansa found herself reaching up. Her hand moved of its own accord, coming very close to his face before he jerked away. Suddenly, she was left alone, watching as he stalked back to the camp. Sansa took a deep breath of the cool air around her, not realizing how warm she was in his arms only moments before.

\----------

They had been traveling for almost a two months when the summons came. Sansa knew it would happen, warned by her father that the queen would invite her and Arya to her wheelhouse at some point. All that she could wonder was what game Cersei was trying to play now. Sansa sat in the tent she shared with Arya and brushed her hair out until the auburn locks shone. Her septa was there, bustling around as she tried to remind Sansa that she had to look her best. She sighed and rolled her eyes, wanting to remind the woman that she hardly needed to be told that. So instead of putting on her thick wool traveling dress, Sansa wore her dark blue silks and had a dragonfly necklace fixed around her neck.

“A noble lady does not feed dogs from her plate.” Septa Mordane said disapprovingly, watching as Sansa held bacon out for Lady.

“She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf.” Sansa corrected her, scratching behind her ear.

She was eager to get out of the tent, standing to walk away.

“Find your sister and tell her to put on her grey velvet dress. We must all look our best.”

Sansa didn’t reply, hurrying out as she made her way to the Trident. Arya was already beside the river, brushing the knots out of Nymeria’s fur as the direwolf squirmed and whined. Lady stood beside Sansa, well behaved and quiet.

“Have you found rubies yet?” Sansa asked, sitting next to her on the boulder.

Arya huffed, shaking her head.

“Mycah and I are going to go look for them today.”

Sansa looked over at her hesitatingly.

“You can’t look for Rhaegar’s rubies today, Arya. The queen invited us both into her wheelhouse and the princess expects us.” She said.

Arya looked at her with disbelief.

“You don’t like the queen. Why do you want to travel with her?” she demanded.

“I don’t but it would be rude to refuse.” Sansa sighed.

Her sister let out a scoff, standing up.

“You talk about hating all of the royals but you won’t do anything about it. Why can’t you just be honest?” she demanded.

“What would you have me do, Arya? Dismiss my future family and make them all hate me in return? I have to live with these people. I have to marry one of them.” Sansa argued, standing as well.

“Tell them you won’t be married!” Arya said loudly.

She looked at her younger sister with disbelief.

“You truly are naïve about the world if you think that I can do such a thing. I have a duty to Winterfell and to Father. I don’t have the luxury of running around with the butcher’s boy to pick flowers and get covered in mud. Unlike you, I actually have to worry about what these people think of me.”

“They think you’re stupid and they’re going to hate you when you’re queen!” Arya shouted.

Sansa stared at her, a hurt expression on her face. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she said something equally hurtful in return.

“Fine, do not come with me on the wheelhouse. I will tell the queen that you were feeling ill.” She said calmly, turning away.

Arya seemed even more enraged by her lack of response.

“I will never be married like you! If I do, it’ll be to someone that I choose for myself and I won’t be half as miserable as you!”

Sansa turned back towards her.

“I wish you luck with that venture, sister.” She said quietly before walking off with Lady at her heels.

She heard Arya make a noise out of anger behind her but did not turn again, heading back for the inn where they made camp.

\----------

When informed that their journey would be postponed another day, Sansa found herself walking towards the trident with Joffrey. She left Lady back at the camp at the prince’s urging. He did not want to admit it but she knew that the direwolves unnerved him. They were walking for several hours, stopping for a picnic, before Sansa glanced over her shoulder.

“Shouldn’t we be starting back?” she questioned, eager to get away from his company.

After her argument with Arya, Sansa did not find herself wanting to be in anyone’s presence, much less the prince’s.

“Soon,” Joffrey replied, charging ahead eagerly. “The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know.”

Sansa did not answer, not wanting to tell him that she knew exactly what happened. Before they could make it, she stopped short at a strange noise.

“What‘s that sound?” Joffrey wondered.

She had a bad feeling about it, stepping backwards.

“Joffrey, let’s go back.” Sansa urged him.

“I want to see what it is.” He refused.

She followed him with a wary feeling, her heart dropping when they rounded the bend of the river and saw a boy and a girl playing at knights. It did not take long for Sansa to recognize her sister, despite her dirty appearance. When the boy struck her across her knuckles, she cried out and dropped her own wooden stick. Joffrey laughed at her sound of pain and they both turned towards them. The boy was startled, dropping his fake sword in the grass. Arya simply glared at them, angry at the interruption.

“Go away,” she shouted at them, angry tears in her eyes. “What are you doing here? Leave us alone.”

Joffrey glanced from Arya to Sansa and back again.

“Your sister?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sansa sighed heavily as she nodded, knowing that this would not turn out to be good.

“And who are you, boy?” he asked in a commanding tone.

The boy flushed, looking at Arya for help.

“Mycah, m’lord.” He answered, averting his eyes from the prince.

“He’s the butcher’s boy.” Sansa offered up.

“He’s my friend,” Arya said sharply. “You leave him alone.”

Joffrey advanced on them, drawing his own sword from its sheath.

“A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight, is it?” he taunted. “Pick up your sword, butcher’s boy. Let us see how good you are.”

Sansa’s eyes widened as Mycah stood there, frozen with fear.

“Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?”

“She asked me to, m’lord.” The boy said, a pleading tone in his voice.

Sansa had no doubt that the boy was telling the truth.

“Joffrey.” She cut in, stepping forward. “The boy must be speaking the truth. Arya played with our brothers this way at home and it is no surprise to me that she found a new friend to do so with. Let us go back to camp and leave them to their games.”

He didn’t listen to her, staring at the butcher’s boy.

“Are you going to pick up your sword?” Joffrey demanded.

“It’s only a stick, m’lord.” Mycah replied, terrified.

Joffrey’s lip curled as he glared at the boy.

“And you’re no knight.” He said, placing the point of his sword on Mycah’s cheek below the eye.

The butcher’s boy stood there, trembling as he pressed the blade into his skin until a small bloody cut appeared.

“That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, do you know that?”

“Stop it!” Arya screamed.

Sansa turned her head in time to see her picking up a large stick.

“Arya don’t!” she shouted, afraid of what would happen.

It was too late. Arya swung with both hands, striking the stick against the back of Joffrey’s head. He staggered and whirled around, roaring out curses as Mycah ran away. When Arya swung again, Joffrey blocked the blow with his sword and sent the stick flying.

“No! Stop it!” Sansa cried, hurrying forward as he advanced on Arya.

Her sister scooped up a rock, throwing it at his head. It missed and went flying into the river. Joffrey launched out, slashing at Arya with his sword as he screamed out obscenities in her direction. Sansa didn’t have time to think before she was throwing her own rock at Joffrey. This one struck his back, sending him staggering as Arya ripped the sword out of his hands, darting around him. She threw the sword into the river with all of her might. Joffrey ran to her, shoving her backwards towards the trees. Sansa reached down, yanking the dagger out of her boot as she launched towards her sister. She threw herself between them, holding the weapon out threateningly.

“Do not touch my sister.” She said in a low, dangerous voice.

The madness seemed to clear from Joffrey’s eyes at the sight of his betrothed holding a blade out towards him. Suddenly, two grey blurs flew out of the trees, landing beside the sisters. Lady and Nymeria growled at him, baring their teeth to the prince. He looked between the direwolves and the sisters before turning to run off, heading back towards the camp as he growled out curses in their direction. Sansa slumped to the ground, unable to believe what just happened. Arya moved towards her, kneeling beside her.

“Do you think he’ll marry you now?” she asked in a quiet voice as their direwolves sat beside them patiently.

Sansa looked over at her with wide eyes. There was a hint of amusement in Arya’s expression. They both stared at each other for a moment before Sansa let out a laugh and shook her head. Arya threw her arms around her shoulders and they sat there by the river, knowing that nothing good would wait for them back at the camp.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Arya face the king and queen as well as their father. Everyone arrives in King's Landing. The Hand's Tourney takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I really don't like this chapter. I'm skipping around, I know. I'm just trying to get to a certain point and the canon parts don't change much for right now. So there will be time skipping and I apologize for that if it bothers any of my readers. I promise, the next chapter will be much better.

She knew that it was childish, hiding away with Arya. She wasn’t willing to face the consequences for their actions so she agreed to walk along the Trident with her sister. Their direwolves were by their sides, keeping them safe as they wandered around. Sansa was certain that her dress would be ruined but she did not care. As the evening began falling, Sansa tied her hair back with a ribbon and watched as Arya scurried up a tree to get them apples. They sat close together, watching the dark, rushing water as Lady and Nymeria kept them warm. It would not be long before they were found, they were both certain of it.

“Do you think we should go back now?” Arya wondered, looking over at her.

Sansa looked down, taking a deep breath.

“I never want to go back.” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t want to get married to that monster. I don’t want to go to King’s Landing. I just want to go home.”

Her sister reached over, taking her hand.

“Let’s go home.” she said.

Sansa looked over at her with surprise.

“We know the way, it’s not hard. The kingsroad leads straight to Winterfell. Robb would be happy to see us again, Mother too. They don’t even have to know that we left. We can sneak into the camp and get our horses and be far gone by the time they realize.” She tried to convince her.

She wanted to do as Arya said more than anything in the world. Sansa took her hand, lifting her up to stand.

“We can’t and you know it.” she said sadly, pulling her sister into a hug.

Sansa kissed the top of her head before leading her back towards the camp. They trudged in together, stopped immediately by Lannister guards who were glaring down at them as if they killed a man.

“The king and queen request an audience with you.” one of them said.

“We want to see our father.” Sansa refused.

“The queen commands it.”

They shared a look, knowing that they really had no way of denying these men who were acting on royal orders. They marched through the camp, their heads down. Before they went into the keep where the royal couple was holding court, the soldiers insisted that they tie their direwolves up at the kennels. When they entered the room, the crowd parted to let them through. King Robert was in a chair, looking tired and frustrated. Cersei was at his side, a pinched look on her face as she looked upon the Stark daughters. Joffrey was just behind her and Robert’s brother, Renly, was on the other side of the chair. Every eye in the room was on them, causing Arya to shake beside Sansa, who was standing tall with a look daring anyone to chastise them.

“Sansa! Arya!” a loud voice called behind them.

The sisters gasped and whirled around, relief filling them when they saw their father. He hurried to them, embracing them both. They clutched at him, both apologizing.

“I know,” He said, looking between them. “Are you hurt?”

They both shook their heads.

“Just hungry and tired.” Sansa said, thankful that he was there to help them face down the king and the Lannisters.

“We’ll feed you soon enough.” their father promised.

When Ned turned to face the king, his face was filled with fury.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded.

No one answered, Cersei glancing at Robert as if expecting him to condemn the two girls before him.

“Why were my daughters not brought to me at once?”

“How dare you speak to your king in that manner.” Cersei hissed.

Sansa glowered at her, not liking the way that the queen spoke to her father. She was about to say as much when the king spoke first.

“Quiet, woman,” Robert snapped, straightening in his seat. “I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girls. It seemed best to bring them here and ge the business doen with quickly.”

“And what business is that?” Ned said, putting ice in his voice.

The queen stepped forward, her emerald eyes glinting angrily.

“You know full well, Stark. These girls of yours attacked my son. Them and the butcher’s boy. They set their direwolves on him. It’s lucky he got away or he might have lost a limb.”

“That’s not true,” Arya said loudly, angry once again. “Lady and Nymeria didn’t even touch him.”

Cersei glared at the young girl.

“Joff told us what happened,” she said, staring at her and Sansa as if daring them to call her son a liar. “You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while Sansa watched and then threw rocks at him all together.”

“That’s not how it was.” Arya argued, tears springing to her eyes.

Ned put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

“Yes it is!” Joffrey insisted, finally speaking up. “They all attacked me and she threw Lion’s Tooth in the river!”

“Liar!” Arya yelled, looking at Sansa for help.

“Shut up!” the prince fired back.

“Enough!” the king roared. “Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.”

Ned stepped forward, taking a deep breath. He looked at Sansa, nodding at her as he trusted her to speak the truth.

“They were not the only ones present. Sansa, tell us what happened.”

She folded her hands together, feeling many sets of eyes boring into her. No gaze was nearly as burning as Joffrey’s but Sansa ignored it. She began explaining everything in a detailed manner, not wanting to leave a single thing out in her defense of herself and her sister. When she spoke of Arya throwing Joffrey’s sword into the Trident, Renly almost doubled over as he laughed heavily. Robert looked frustrated, shaking his head at his youngest brother’s behavior.

“Ser Barristan, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes.” He said in a low tone, his eyes on Sansa.

“My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself.” Renly refused, still guffawing.

He bowed first to Sansa and Arya before doing the same to Joffrey.

“Perhaps later you’ll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with no weapon of her own and throw your sword in the river.”

Sansa watched with wide eyes as he walked out, laughing once more as he spoke the name of Joffrey’s sword. Once he was gone, she continued her story. When she finished, Her shoulders slumped as she sighed with relief. Robert glanced over at Joffrey, inviting him to speak in his defense. The prince began weaving an entirely different version of events, making Arya and Sansa out to be his bullies and the butcher’s boy out to be a bloodthirsty monster.

“What in all seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another.” Robert grumbled, standing up.

“He’s a liar!” Arya yelled again, pointing at Joffrey.

“That girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers,” Cersei spoke up once more, glaring at Arya once more. “Robert, I want her punished.”

“Seven hells,” The king swore. “Cersei look at her. She’s a child. What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn in, children fight. It’s over. No lasting harm was done.”

The queen looked furious but he brushed her off, shaking his head.

“Ned, see that your daughters are disciplined. I will do the same with my son.”

“Gladly, Your Grace.” Ned replied with vast relief.

Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not finished.

“And what of the direwolves?” she called after him.

He stopped short, glancing back at her.

“They should be taken care of before we get to King’s Landing. Who knows what beastly things they’ll do there?” Joffrey spoke up.

Both of the Stark sisters realized what he meant.

“No! You aren’t going to touch Nymeria!” Arya shouted.

“Jory, take her.” Ned said.

The younger daughter fought and screamed as the man pulled her out of the room. Sansa stood at her father’s side, her chin lifted and her eyes cold as ice.

“The first man to come at Lady with a blade will find himself at the end of my dagger.” She said loudly, the threat echoing around the room.

Ned looked at her with surprise as she turned to walk out, walking with all the grace of her mother and all the cold fury of the North. Before he could walk out after his daughters, Robert called him back, walking towards him.

“The wolves?” Cersei demanded.

“They did nothing. They’ll be left alone.” Robert said much to her fury.

He walked outside with Ned, guards trailing close behind him.

“I never thanked the gods for my daughter’s soft-spoken sweetness but faced with your two tonight, I’m thinking of going to the sept right now,” Robert muttered. “I’ll be damned if they don’t remind me of Lyanna, both of them.”

Ned nodded in agreement, unable to deny that his sister would have looked upon her nieces proudly were she still alive.

\----------

The next day, Sansa was surprised to be called out by her father for a walk. Their trip was delayed one more day before they would leave, likely by Joffrey’s continued complaints of his head aching and the Maester’s insistence that he take milk of the poppy. She walked with her lord father, her hand tucked in the crease of his elbow and Lady at their side. Sansa would not part with her direwolf, intent on keeping her safe.

“Do you want to tell me where you got the dagger?” Ned asked.

Sansa flushed, glancing over at him.

“Robb and Jon do not trust the prince. I suppose they were right.” she sighed, thinking of where the blade was strapped to her leg even now.

Ned looked torn between surprise and acceptance.

“I knew that they did not like Joffrey. I did not think that they would encourage you to stab him.” he said quietly.

Sansa glanced over at him, chewing on her lip.

“Are you angry with me for what I did?” she asked.

Ned looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“No, my child.” He said, stopping her.

He put his hands on her cheeks and looked down into her eyes.

“What do I always say?” Ned asked.

“Winter is coming.” Sansa sighed.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

“That is true but I’m talking about something else. Something more relevant to the situation.” He said.

Sansa immediately knew what he meant, nodding at him.

“When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.” She said in a quiet voice.

Ned nodded, pride in his eyes at her remembrance.

“The winters are hard, but the Starks will endure. We always have.” He assured her.

Sansa took a deep breath, nodding as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Do you think the betrothal will be upheld?” Sansa asked as they walked along once more.

“I do not know.” Ned said honestly.

\----------

When they rode through the gates of the Red Keep, Sansa was sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. Arya was no different, though they were both captured by the city around them. Just as they were helped down from their horses, Sansa saw the king’s steward hurry up to their father.

“Grand Maester Pycelle has convened an urgent meeting of the small council, my lord. The honor of your presence is requested as soon as is convenient.” The man said, haughty and full of himself.

“It will be convenient on the morrow.” Ned snapped as he dismounted from his own horse.

The steward bowed very low.

“I shall give the councilors your regrets, my lord.”

“No, damn it.” Ned sighed, shaking his head.

Sansa frowned at him, stepping forward.

“Father, you need rest and food and a bath. Surely the council can wait.” She said, seeing his mind changing.

Catelyn often said that if she did not force her husband to slow down and take care of himself, he would run himself ragged. Since her mother was not there, Sansa knew she had to take it upon herself to keep him well rested and fed.

“I will be back,” he assured her. “Go find your chambers and do not let your sister go exploring.”

“An impossible task.” Sansa sighed, turning back to see Arya already trying to sneak off to look at something.

Once she managed to get her sister back to the courtyard, they went to the tower of the Hand.

“It’s eerie.” Arya said as they stood in their father’s new solar.

“What?” Sansa asked, turning from where she was standing on the balcony.

It was a beautiful view of King’s Landing and the Blackwater Bay. Outside, men were bringing up the many trunks from their wagons.

“The last man who lived in here died.” Arya said, glancing around.

“And a few men before that was Tywin Lannister.” Sansa muttered.

Her sister heard her and they exchanged a look, laughing before they went their separate ways to explore the tower.

\----------

As they ate in the small hall, their father came in from another difficult meeting from his council. Sansa could see it in his eyes. He sat down, nodding his thanks at a servant when the food was served to him as well.

“The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord,” Jory said, looking at Ned. “They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King.”

Sansa’s heart leapt at the idea of a tournament in her father’s name but he looked less than thrilled.

“Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?”

Jeyne Poole reached over, clenching Sansa’s hand with a wide smile.

“A tourney?” she breathed.

“Will we be permitted to go, Father?” Sansa asked, looking at him brightly.

He sighed heavily.

“You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert’s games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly.”

Sansa leaned forward, giving him a pleading look.

“Oh, please. I want to see.”

Tourneys were not often held in the North. Sansa knew that her father thought them to be frivolous. When men fought, they should not do it for play. It did not help that Rhaegar Targaryen noticed her Aunt Lyanna at such a tourney.

“Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if you family did not attend.” Septa Mordane spoke up.

For once in her life, Sansa threw the woman a grateful look.

Ned looked pained, shaking his head.

“I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa. For both of you.” he nodded at Arya.

They both grinned at each other, eager to see the men of Westeros jousting and fighting to win the purse.

“I wonder who will become the Queen of Love and Beauty.” Jeyne sighed, imagining it.

“I doubt it would be anyone but Myrcella.” Sansa said.

“But imagine that it were you.” her friend said, beaming at Sansa.

Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

\----------

It was only a few days before the tourney when he came to her. Sansa was with her septa, working on her embroidery as she stared out at the Blackwater Bay. They both heard footsteps and glanced up in time to see Joffrey entering the solar. Something shiny was hanging from his hand as he sauntered towards her. Sansa forced herself to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest.

“My prince.” Septa Mordane said reverently, sinking into a curtsy.

Sansa did the same, bowing her head to him. When she straightened up, she looked at him hesitantly.

“My prince.” She said quietly.

“My lady,” Joffrey replied, taking her by surprise as he bowed to her. “I fear I have behaved monstrously.”

He held out the chain on his hand, a golden pendent on the end.

“With your permission?”

Sansa took a deep breath, turning around to allow him to put it around her neck. Somehow, it felt like a collar. She knew that the reconciliation would be coming. Her father warned her that Robert refused to break off the betrothal and demanded that his son redeem himself to Sansa after his abhorrent behavior. When she turned back around, letting her hair fall around her shoulders once more, he was smiling at her. There was something hidden in his eyes, a glint of anger that remained and Sansa knew that this was for show. She looked down at the necklace, knowing that she had to play her part now. It was all a show, an act that had to be played out.

“It’s beautiful.” she said, forcing a smile onto her face as she glanced back up at him.

Joffrey smiled back at her, looking like the perfect golden prince that everyone thought he was.

“You’ll be queen someday,” he said, making her skin crawl at the suggestion. “It’s only fitting that you should look the part.”

Sansa didn’t reply, simply relaxing her face to look warm and inviting. Joffrey looked down at his feet, playing the part of being ashamed.

“Will you forgive me for my rudeness?” he asked, looking up at her through his lashes.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Sansa replied.

Joffrey nodded at her, approval in his eyes.

“You’re my lady.” he said, lifting his hands to cradle her cheeks.

Sansa had to keep herself from flinching at the motion.

“I’ll never disrespect you again,” Joffrey vowed solemnly. “I’ll never be cruel to you again. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly, her heart thundering in her chest as she looked into his deceiving eyes.

“You’re my lady now. From this day until my last day.”

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise as he leaned in to kiss her, a light brush of his lips as his hand drifted down to her arm. Before he left, his fingers dug into her skin hard enough to bruise. She didn’t even wince, staring back at him for several moments before watching him leave.

\----------

Sansa was relieved to be dismissed from the banquet. The day’s events at the tourney tired her out as well as the work that it took to keep up her façade next to Joffrey. When he sent his sworn shield with her, Sansa was less happy. She hadn’t been around him since their journey and she had no desire to be near him because of what she knew had to be true. Still, their walk to her rooms was too silent for her and she yearned to break it.

“You rode gallantly today, non-ser.” Sansa said, staring straight forward as they walked.

He let out a scoff, his drunken breath stinking the air around them.

“Spare me your empty little compliments, girl,” he grumbled. “Some septa trained you well. You’re like one of those little birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.

Sansa glared over at him.

“That’s unkind. They’re not empty and I mean what I say when I say it.” she fired back at him angrily.

He let out another doubtful noise and Sansa stopped short.

“Did you truly kill that boy?”

He stopped as well, glancing back at her.

“Why?” he asked.

“I want to know.” Sansa replied, stepping towards him with her dark green dress fisted in her hands.

He moved towards her as well, the smell of sweat and wine washing over her.

“And if I say yes?”

She knew before she asked him yet she still felt her heart sink. Sansa shook her head, moving to walk past him. Before she could get far, his arm caught her and pulled her back not ungently.

“Look at me.” he said, pushing her against the wall.

His hands went to either side of her face, boxing her in. Sansa stared up at him, her eyes flickering over his scars and then the unmarred side of his face before going to his eyes that held such anger and hatred. Sansa almost recoiled at that but stood her ground, her hands pressing into the cold stones of the walls.

“No pretty words for that, girl? No little compliments the septa taught you?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him, prepared to tell him that his face did not frighten her.

“I killed the butcher’s boy and I’ll make no apologies for it. It is not my place to question princes or kings.” Sandor growled.

“He was just a boy.” Sansa whispered.

“So was I, when I got this,” he said, waving to his face. “No one took pity on me.”

She fell silent, looking at his scars once more as he launched into the story of how they came to be. Sansa felt her heart aching for the young boy who was tortured so by his elder brother and for the man who was still haunted by what happened. Gregor’s actions, even as a child, held no surprise for her. Sansa reached up, placing her hand over his scarred cheek. He didn’t jerk away this time, instead he just stared down at her as if awaiting her reaction to the horrible story.

“He was no true knight.” Sansa murmured.

Sandor let out a roar of laughter, startling her after the quietness of their speaking.

“No, little bird, he was no true knight.” He agreed, leading her down the corridor once more.

Once they reached the door to her chambers, Sansa glanced over her shoulder at him. Something stirred within her, urging her to give him something, anything.

“I would like to bestow my favor upon you on the morrow.” she found herself saying.

Sandor looked back at her with shock clear in his eyes.

“Do you?” he said doubtfully.

She nodded once, a determined look on her face.

“You’ll do it in front of everyone? The king? The queen? Your betrothed and your father?”

Sansa grimaced at the mention of the royal family but nodded nonetheless.

“As long as you are not averse to it, my non-ser.” she nodded before entering her chamber and closing the door behind her.

\----------

Arya was not at the tourney that day and after the man’s death the previous day, Jeyne did not want to attend either. Sansa was sitting next to her father, looking out at the jousting ring with bright eyes. The day mostly went well. Her favor fluttered against Sandor’s breastplate as he went through the day and unseated three of his opponents to make it to the final round of jousting. It was only when Loras Tyrell titled against Gregor Clegane that it all went horribly. Sansa knew that she would never get the sound of the Mountain’s horse screaming as he killed it. Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter when Sandor leapt out to defend the Knight of Flowers against his brother.

Relief filled her when the king put a stop to it and the large man stomped off. Loras proclaimed Sandor as winner of the tourney and for once, the common people cheered his name and shouted their praise. Before he received the winnings, Sandor was given a crown of white roses to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty. Sansa was certain that he would be flushing if the man would do such a thing. He strode forward, his eyes flicking over the crowd. The obvious choice was Princess Myrcella so when Sandor headed towards Sansa, her heart almost stopped in her chest.

“For your favor.” He grumbled, depositing the crown in her lap.

Sansa stared down at it with wide eyes before glancing back up at him.

“Thank you.” she breathed, knowing better than to address him by any titles.

He nodded stiffly, turning to walk away as she caressed the soft petals. Sansa stared down at the crown, torn between disbelief and curiosity, wondering what else she had to learn about Sandor Clegane.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their father is put in danger, Sansa and Arya plan to return to Winterfell. Sansa speaks with Sandor in private. She and Ned learn of a startling truth and begin planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful support. I love each and every one of you amazing people.

Sansa could hear her own breathing in the silence of the throne room. She was awaiting her father’s exit from the council chambers so that she could speak to him about Arya’s dancing lessons. She knew what they truly were, hearing her younger sister praise Syrio Forel’s every word in a way that she never would for a real dancing master. From within the chambers, she could hear the king’s raised voice ranting against something and her father’s quieter voice speaking back to him. It surprised Sansa, as she knew that the king hardly ever attended the meetings, something that drew the ire of her father. As she walked among the pillars, Sansa unconsciously traced a dark bruise that was on her wrist. It was easily hidden by her sleeves and she kept it that away, knowing that her father would likely fly into a rare rage at the sight of the marks on his daughter’s body. 

She knew that it would be easy to break the betrothal if they knew of what Joffrey did. It was never spoken outright but they both knew. He always managed to find her alone, to place a bruising kiss on her lips that promised a dark future for her if they were wedded. He hadn’t raised his hand to her yet but Sansa knew that it was only a matter of time. She dearly hoped, for his own sake, that Joffrey did not bruise her visibly. It might be treason but her father would ensure that the crown prince did not live a second longer than he deserved. Sansa glanced up at the iron throne, narrowing her eyes at the many melted down swords that made up the chair. Her lip curled slightly as she thought that Joffrey did not deserve to ever sit where other, more worthy rulers sat. 

“Out! Out, damn you! I’m done with you!” the king’s voice roared.

Sansa turned, her eyes wide as she heard the door to the council chambers opening.

“Go, run back to Winterfell! I’ll have your head on a spike! I’ll put it there myself, you fool!”

She saw Ned hurrying towards her, a determined look on her face.

“You think you’re too good for this? Too proud and honorable? This is a war!” Robert shouted after him

“Father?” Sansa said, the king’s words sending shivers down her spine.

He saw the panic on her face and took her hand, pulling her out of the throne room with him.

“Come, child. We shall leave this place.” he said in a low voice.

“Truly?” she breathed, her eyes lighting up.

“It is no longer safe for the Starks.”

They got to the tower and she hurried behind him, her skirts lifted to allow her to move quickly. Sansa followed him into his solar and watched as he began packing. Jory came in behind after several minutes, sensing that something was amiss.

“We’ll go ahead, the rest will follow. Don’t pack everything, only what you need for the journey.” Ned said quickly.

“Yes, Father.” Sansa said, bowing her head.

“Lord Baelish is here for you.” Jory broke in.

Both Sansa and Ned turned to look at him as the man himself stepped in.

“His Grace went on about you for some length after you took your leave. The word treason was mentioned.” Littlefinger said.

Sansa felt an icy chill grip her chest as her hands went to her mouth.

“Do not worry, my child. Go and ready your things.” Ned said.

She nodded, turning to hurry to her chambers. Arya was nowhere to be seen, unsurprisingly. Sansa instructed a maid to begin packing her sister’s belongings as she did the same for herself. After a few minutes, her father came to her door.

“Sansa, our journey will have to be delayed another day.” He said.

She turned around, her eyes wide.

“But the king… his threats…”

“Are nothing but threats,” Ned reassured her, stepping into the room. “I am more concerned with the Lannisters. I’ve sent Desmond to fetch Arya and you two are to remain in your chambers. Do not open the door for anyone but Jory or myself, not even another Stark man.”

“Why are you worried about the Lannisters?” Sansa asked.

He took a deep breath, glancing out into the hallway where she saw Lord Baelish hovering in the shadows.

“Your mother has taken Tyrion Lannister.” 

“What? Why?” Sansa demanded.

He held up a hand for her to quiet down.

“Do not concern yourself right now, Sansa. I will tell you everything when I return. Keep your sister safe.” Ned said, kissing her forehead before turning to rush out.

She stared after him, feeling a sinking sense of dread.

\----------

Sansa dreamed of Winterfell, waking to a dark room with a smile on her face. It wasn’t until she heard the noises outside of her chamber that she realized what woke her. The door opened and Sansa sat up quickly to see her septa there.

“Come quickly, child.” She said, picking up a dark green dressing gown.

She untangled herself from the blankets and hurried towards her, putting on the gown. Sansa did not hesitate, hurrying out as she laced it up.

“What is it?” Sansa asked, looking at Septa Mordane with panic in her eyes.

“Your father.”

They hurried into his chamber to see Grand Maester Pycelle at his side. Sansa let out a cry of panic when she saw the wound on her father’s leg.

“What happened?” she demanded, darting to the side of the bed. “Where is Jory?”

Her septa looked at her sadly.

“Your father was attacked in the city. His men were all killed. The Lannisters are not pleased with the capture of their brother.” Pycelle answered her.

Sansa stared at him with disbelief, wanting to throttle the old man.

“The Lannisters did this to my father?” she growled, her eyes flashing dangerously.

The maester looked up at her with surprise, not expecting to hear such a tone in her normally soft voice.

“Your father plotted with your mother to capture the Imp. Did they not expect consequences of such actions?” the old man said.

Sansa leaned in closer to him, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Keep my father alive, Grand Maester. If he perishes, my brother will rally the bannermen and he will march on King’s Landing and Casterly Rock to demand the heads of every Lannister involved in this attack. If you wish to keep peace in Westeros, I suggest you work hard.” she said in a low, dangerous voice.

She turned, walking out of the room. Sansa made it to the Hand’s solar before collapsing into a chair. Her septa was close behind her.

“We’re meant to go home.” she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I want to go back to Winterfell.”

Her septa sat beside her, stroking her hair as she let her emotions out.

\----------

Arya was only in the bedchamber for a few hours a day. They both trembled with anger when they were in each other’s presence, wanting nothing more than to bring every Lannister to justice for what their father suffered. When Arya disappeared, Sansa was certain that she was at her dancing lessons. The older Stark daughter found her place by her father’s bed, embroidering a new dress as she watched over his still figure. Other than Maester Pycelle, who hadn’t spoken to her since that night, no one else came in. Sansa scarcely left, allowing herself to be bathed and changed before she took up the seat beside her lord father once again. Septa Mordane tried to convince her to leave at least twice a day, saying that a walk in the sun would be good for her.

“Did my mother move from Bran’s side?” Sansa snapped at her.

“Sansa.” the woman said in a warning voice.

“I will not move until my lord father awakens. If you want a walk in the gardens, I suggest that you take it yourself. I shall remain here.” Sansa said, clearly dismissing the woman.

Septa Mordane would not usually follow such an order from her charge but at the moment, she knew that Sansa needed to be alone. In the late afternoon on the third day of his rest, her father finally began stirring. When she heard him mumble something, Sansa dropped her embroidery and leaned in closer.

“Father?” she murmured, taking his hand.

His skin was clammy, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body. His wound was healing well, as the maester said, but he would still have a pronounced limp.

“Lyanna.” He mumbled, tossing his head. “My sister.”

Sansa frowned, squeezing his hand as she felt his head. He did not often speak of their aunt and she knew that he must have been dreaming of her.

“I promise, Lyanna. I promise.” Ned sighed.

At that moment, the door to the chamber opened loudly. Sansa turned her head to chastise whomever entered so rudely but was stopped when she saw the king and queen standing there. Unwillingly, she stood and curtsied to them.

“Your Grace, my queen.” Sansa said respectfully before taking her seat once again.

She wished that there were a way to force them to leave. Her father would awaken soon and Sansa did not want him to be confronted with the royal couple. As it were, she simply had to sit there and allow their presence.

“Has he woken yet?” Robert asked in a gruff voice.

Sansa stared up at him coldly, not forgetting the accusation of treason towards her honorable father.

“No, Your Grace. Maester Pycelle has been administering milk of the poppy for his pain.” She replied in a short voice, looking back down.

She held her father’s hand in both of her own, praying to the gods, old and new, that he would recover and they would be allowed to leave King’s Landing. They all remained quiet, watching and waiting. Cersei was impatient, shifting on her feet as she looked around with annoyance clear in her eyes. Finally, her father’s eyes opened slowly and he took a shuddering breath, looking around. His eyes fell first on the queen and the king before flickering over to Sansa, who forced a smile onto her face for his benefit.

“Your pardon, Your Grace,” Ned said, looking back at the king as he tried to push himself up to a sitting position. “I would rise, but…”

“Do you know what your wife has done?” Cersei demanded.

Sansa’s eyes snapped to the queen and narrowed, daring her to speak against her mother.

“I do.” Ned said, swallowing hard. “My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did she did at my command.”

“Who’d have thought she had it in her?” Robert huffed, looking angry.

Sansa gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain quiet as they spoke.

“By what right do you lay hands on my blood?” Cersei hissed.

“I am the Hand of the King,” Ned told her with icy courtesy. “Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king’s peace and enforce the king’s justice.”

“You were the Hand,” The queen fired back. “You shall now be held accountable…”

“Will both of you shut your mouths?” Robert roared, quieting the two.

Sansa reached for a goblet of water, pouring some for her father to drink.

“Catelyn will release Tyrion and you’ll make your peace with Jaime.” The king instructed angrily.

“He butchered Stark men.” Sansa spoke up, her fury overflowing.

She’d remained quiet for days as her father healed but now she would not remain quiet any longer. The queen stared her down challengingly.

“Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel when his men attacked Jaime.” Cersei said.

Sansa started to call her a liar but stopped herself, knowing that she would sound childish.

“Quiet, woman.” Robert growled in a low voice.

“Jaime has fled the city,” Ned said, reaching out to take Sansa’s hand in his. “Give me leave to bring him back to justice.”

Robert remained silent, considering his words.

“I took your for a king.” Cersei spat, glaring at him.

“Hold your tongue.” He warned.

“He’s attacked one of my brothers and abducted the other,” she continued, heedless of his words. “I should wear the armor and you the gown.”

Robert turned to her, glaring for a moment before he struck her cheek. Sansa gasped and clenched her father’s hand as the sound echoed through the room. Her face was horrified as she looked upon the queen. Cersei straightened up, touching the red mark on her face. She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as she looked upon the king.

“I shall wear this like a badge of honor.” She said proudly.

“Wear it in silence or I’ll honor you again.”

The queen stared him down for a moment before glancing at the other two and turning to leave. The door slammed shut and the sound of her walking down the hall reached their ears for a few moments before it disappeared.

“Sansa,” Ned sighed, looking up at her. “Go check on your sister.”

She didn’t argue, leaning down to kiss his forehead before hurrying out of the room as well.

\----------

Sansa’s feet tired her and her throat was dry with thirst but she did not complain, standing upright and proud in the gallery. Her gown was in stark colors, light grey wool with white embroidery on the bodice. Her hair was undone, falling around her shoulders in fiery waves. Sansa refused to style herself in the southron way anymore. Her father sat upon the iron throne, looking more like a true king than Robert ever would. He looked tired and weakened, his leg stretched out in front of him and a walking stick at his side. Maester Pycelle and Littlefinger were on either side of him to advise him. Septa Mordane was beside her, rocking on her heels as she huffed under her breath. 

Sansa would have told her to act more like a lady if she were not in a foul mood. Their return to Winterfell had been delayed as a result of the king forbidding her father to leave. If he were not on a hunt, Sansa did not know whether she could reign in her anger towards the man. When a group of men with shadows in their faces and devastation in their eyes were led into the throne room, she stood a little straighter, knowing that something was wrong. They came to plead for justice as their lands were sacked.

“They burned most everything in the riverlands, our fields, our granaries, our homes. They took our women, and then they took them again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals.” The man’s voice was thick with emotion, tears gathered in his eyes as he explained their plight to her father.

Sansa felt her own heart breaking for this man and the other man with them. She clutched her hands at her chest, chewing on her bottom lip as he continued.

“They covered our children in pitch and lit them on fire.” The man said before breaking down into tears and ducking his head.

“Brigands, most likely.” Maester Pycelle said dismissively.

Sansa looked up at him with disbelief, wondering how he could dismiss something this horrible as the work of simple thieves.

“They weren’t thieves,” One of the men denied, shaking his head. “They even left something behind, Your Grace.”

Ned sighed, looking tired and sympathetic for the man.

“His Grace is hunting across the Blackwater,” he said, forcing himself to straighten up. “I am Lord Eddard Stark, the King’s Hand. Tell me what they left.”

Another man walked forward, holding a sack of something that smelled most foul even from the gallery. He poured the dead fish onto the floor of the throne room, making everyone groan and cover their mouths with handkerchiefs.

“Fish. The sigil of House Tully,” Littlefinger said, turning to Ned. “Isn’t that your wife’s house, my lord Hand?”

Neither Sansa nor her father liked what he was insinuating, both of them glaring at the man.

“These men, were they flying a sigil?” Ned questioned.

The man looked at him with confusion at the word.

“A banner?” he sighed.

“None, Your… Hand,” he said, shaking his head. “The one who was leading them, taller by a foot than any man I’ve ever met. I saw him cut the blacksmith in two, saw him take off the head of a horse with a single swing of his sword.”

Sansa’s blood ran cold as her eyes swept across the gathered knights in the throne room. At the back, the prince’s sworn shield stood with an impassive look on his face. Though, in his eyes, she could see his fury burning.

“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.” Ned said, knowing who it was as quickly as Sansa and Sandor.

“Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand? The man is an anointed knight.” Maester Pycelle scoffed.

Sansa clenched her small hands into fists at the reminder. The man did not deserve to be a knight. Not after what he did to his younger brother and to the Princess Elia as well as her children.

“I’ve heard him called Tywin Lannister’s mad dog. I’m sure you have as well. Can you think of any reason the Lannisters might possibly have for being angry with your wife?” Littlefinger questioned, staring at Ned once more.

The maester shook his head in disbelief.

“If the Lannisters were to order attacks on villages under the king’s protection, it would be…”

“That would be almost as brazen as attacking the Hand of the King in the streets of the capital.” Littlefinger interrupted him.

There was silence in the room as everyone awaited her father’s words. Sansa’s hands twisted in her gown, nervous as she listened for his judgment. His eyes flickered to her and she nodded, knowing what he must do from what she learned from him.

“I cannot give you back your homes or restore your dead to life but perhaps I can give you justice in the name of our king, Robert.”

“Lord Eddard!” a voice rang out.

Everyone watched as Ser Loras Tyrell pushed through the crowd of knights to stand before him.

“I beg you the honor of acting in your place. give this task to me, my lord, and I swear I shall not fail you.”

Sansa frowned, knowing that the sixteen-year-old knight despite his strength with a sword, was no match for the Mountain That Rides. There was only one man that she knew could match him and he was remaining silent at the back of the hall. Ned shifted in his seat, looking around before making his decision.

“Lord Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Ser Gladden, Lord Lothar.”

As he named them, each man stepped forward one by one.

“Each of you is to assemble twenty men, to bring my word to Gregor’s keep. Twenty of my own guards shall go with you. Lord Beric, you shall have command, as befits your rank.”

They all bowed at once.

“As you command, Lord Eddard.” The men echoed.

Ned used his cane, standing up in front of them all. Sansa felt a swell of pride for her father as he fitted the role of a leader.

“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring the king’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him and attaint him. I strip him of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and sentence him to death.”

There was muttering around the room at his words as Pycelle stood as quickly as he could.

“My lord, this is a drastic action. It would be better to wait for King Robert’s return.” He said, trying to dissuade the Hand.

“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Ned said, looking over at the old man. “Send a raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannermen. He will arrive within a fortnight or be branded an enemy of the Crown and a traitor to the Realm.” 

The whispers were louder, wondering if the Hand of the King intended to declare war on the Lannisters for their actions both in King’s Landing and outside of it. Sansa watched as her father limped back towards the council chambers with Littlefinger following him. She glanced around and saw Sandor walk out of the throne room with his hand clenched around his sword. She slipped past her septa, ignoring her calls as she hurried through the crowds. Once she was outside the throne room, Sansa glanced around to see that he was stomping off across the yard serpentine steps. Sansa hurried after him. Once they reached the serpentine steps, she climbed with him, knowing that he could hear her footsteps on the stone.

“It should be you.” Sansa said, her voice ringing out.

Sandor stopped short, turning to face her. He did not say anything as she advanced towards him. Sansa heard voices, glancing down before grasping his thick wrist and pulling him up higher. When they were alone in the darkened space, she turned to look at him once more. As she was higher on the steps than he, her face was level with him for once.

“You should be the one delivering justice to your brother. It should be your sword taking his head and your hands putting it on a spike.” She said in a hushed voice, looking into his eyes.

He stared at her strangely, wondering what she knew of justice.

“I would do the same to the man who pushed my brother out of the tower.” Sansa admitted.

She placed her hand on the cold wall next to her as he took another step up towards her.

“Your brother fell, little bird.” He rasped.

Sansa gave him a sad smile that came out more as a grimace.

“We both know better than that, non-ser,” she said quietly. “It is unfair that you do not get the vengeance that you deserve.”

Suddenly his hand shot out and grasped hers, lifting the loose sleeve to reveal the bruises that marred her pale skin.

“Is this fair?” he questioned, looking up at her. “Does your lord father know of this treatment?”

She lifted her chin, pulling her sleeve back down without pulling her hand away from him.

“The queen can wear hers in silence and I can as well.” Sansa said, knowing that Joffrey wouldn’t have much longer to mark her skin.

He scoffed, letting her hand go.

“You are a foolish child who will die by the same honor that your father wears so proudly.” Sandor said, reverting to his hateful words.

Sansa was tempted to beat her hands against his mailed chest if only it would not cause her more pain that him.

“And you are a foul-tempered man who is no better than the prince you protect.” she fired back.

Suddenly, his hand was wrapped around her upper arm and his other was delving into her hair. He held her close to his body, his gentle touch opposite of the anger burning in his eyes. His hand in her hair titled her head back slightly, baring her neck to him. Sansa gasped, her hands going to his shoulders to steady herself. Despite the dangerous situation she was in, heat flooded her body at their closeness and she stared into his eyes without fear.

“You should be careful about the way you speak to me, little bird.” Sandor growled, trying to frighten her.

Sansa’s heart pounded in her chest but for a different reason.

“You won’t hurt me.” she whispered, confident in the truth of her words despite her earlier insult of him.

His head dipped close to hers, his breath washing over the skin of her throat.

“No, little bird. I won’t hurt you.” Sandor agreed, lifting his face to stare into her eyes once more.

Sansa stared at him with her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. They were close, too close. She could feel the lines of his armor pressing into her body. Sandor moved slowly, pushing her against the wall gently. His hand stroked her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear as his eyes darted over face. Then he was gone, leaving her standing in the steps alone. Sansa clutched at the stones behind her, her chest heaving and her face flushed. She squeezed her eyes shut, putting her hand over her heart as it beat quickly.

\----------

When she finally worked up the energy to move, Sansa hurried back to the Hand’s tower. Just as she passed her father’s solar, he called her in. Arya was there as well, looking concerned for him as he swayed in front of the window.

“Sit, Sansa.” He nodded at her.

She sat with her sister, folding her hands in her lap as she wondered what was happening.

“I’m sending you both back to Winterfell.” He said solemnly.

“What?” Sansa demanded, immediately understanding his carefully chosen words. “Without you?”

“Is this because of your leg? Are you dying?” Arya demanded.

He looked at her with a frown.

“What? No?” Ned said, shaking his head.

“Father, we cannot go without you. We must stay together. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.” Sansa said insistently, throwing his words back at him.

Their father took a deep breath.

“I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety. I will follow soon enough.” he promised.

“Can we take Syrio with us?” Arya said.

“Who cares about your dancing teacher? Father, please.” Sansa said, standing up and taking his hands. “Please don’t let us go without you.”

He put his hand on her cheek, soothing her at once.

“I will follow, dear Sansa. But I cannot go with you now. I must settle things with the king when he returns from his hunt.” He said.

Sansa shook her head, wanting to refuse further.

“Look at it this way, you’re no longer marrying Joffrey, like you wanted.” Arya said.

She looked at her sister with wide eyes, the prospect not even occurring to her. Now that she knew it was true, a great burden seemed to lift from her shoulders.

“I don’t ever want to see him again.” She admitted, glancing at her father. “Promise me I’ll never have to marry someone like him.”

Ned nodded at her.

“When we get back to Winterfell, I’ll make you a match with someone who’s worth of you, someone who’s brave and gentle and strong.”

Sansa smiled at him, leaning forward to embrace him.

“Thank the gods. Now you won’t have to marry the royal prick.” Arya said as they separated.

“Arya.” Ned said in a stern voice, knowing their mother wouldn’t like her language.

“Robb and Jon and Theon said it.” Arya defended herself.

Sansa sat down, taking a deep breath.

“Now I won’t be forced to give the golden lion sons with beautiful blond hair.” She said, rolling her eyes.

Arya laughed, shoving her shoulder.

“The lion’s not his sigil, idiot. He’s a stag, like his father.”

Sansa laughed as well, looking careless of her mistake as she glanced up at her father. There was a frown on his face and a haunted look in his eyes.

“Father?” she asked, concerned once more.

“Arya, go get the Septa and finish packing your things. Sansa, remain here.”

The younger sister ran out, suddenly eager to get home as quickly as possible. Sansa closed the door, sensing that he would want her to do it. He beckoned her to the desk and she stood beside him, looking down as he opened a large book.

“Before my the last Hand died, he was reading this volume.” Ned explained, opening it to a particular page. “Tell me what you see.”

Sansa read the writing quickly, saying it aloud.

“Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair.” Sansa hesitated, reaching one of the last names in the family lineage.

She looked up at her father with wide eyes and he nodded, wanting her to continue.

“Joffrey Baratheon, golden-haired. Tommen Baratheon, golden-haired.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sansa straightened up, looking down at him.

“What does this mean, Father?” she whispered.

Ned closed the book, pushing it away before turning to her. He took both of her hands in his and looked up into her eyes.

“The Lannisters are without honor, Sansa. Never forget that such people do not live by the same morals as you and I.” he said gravely.

“But would they truly… would Cersei… oh gods, Bran.” Sansa said, sinking to her knees before him. “Bran saw them that day in Winterfell, that’s who pushed him.”

He took her face in his hands, wiping away the tears that fell.

“What will you do, Father?” Sansa asked, looking up at him fearfully.

“Ensure that justice is served, my child. That is why I need your sister and yourself as safe as possible. Promise me that you will protect Arya when I am not there and that you will advise your brother in whatever he needs. Your mind is closest to mine and you are more patient than Robb. He will need you.”

Sansa’s lip trembled as she clutched at his knees.

“He’ll need me for what?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

Ned simply placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Go and fetch your cloak. We must go pray in the godswood. Bring your direwolf as well.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Robert returns from his hunt injured beyond repair, Sansa waits for her father to make his suspicions known as they prepare to leave for Winterfell. When everything goes wrong, she has nothing to rely on but her own strength and what Ned taught her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is actually really hard to get through so, once again, I apologize if the quality of the writing suffers. I promise I am trying my best but sometimes, it's just hard to know what to write to make it the best that it can be.

Sansa let her breath out as she knelt on the ground. Her cloak was drawn around her tightly and Lady pressed into her body to keep her warm. Winter was truly coming. Even King’s Landing was chilled in the night. She lifted her head when she heard footsteps approaching the Heart Tree.

“You're in pain.” The queen said, her voice floating through the godswood.

She heard rustling as her father stood from the rock he was sitting on.

“I've had worse, My Lady.” Ned said.

Sansa closed her eyes, remembering his instructions to stay entirely silent.

“Perhaps it's time to go home. The South doesn't seem to agree with you.” Cersei suggested.

There were several moments of silence and she knew that the two were staring each other down.

“I know the truth Jon Arryn died for.” He claimed.

The queen let out a short laugh.

“Do you, Lord Stark? Is that why you called me here, to pose me riddles?” she questioned.

Her father didn’t reply to her question.

“Has he hit you before?” Ned asked.

“Once or twice. Never on the face. Jaime would have killed him,” Cersei said, pausing at the longing in her own voice. “My brother is worth a thousand of your friend.”

Ned took a deep breath.

“Your brother... or your lover?”

“The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep bloodlines pure,” she replied after a pause. “Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together.”

“My son saw you with him.” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

Cersei hummed in agreement.

“Do you love your children?” she wondered.

“With all my heart.” Ned confirmed.

Sansa bowed her head, sliding her hands into Lady’s fur to comfort her.

“No more than I love mine.” Cersei said.

“And they are all Jaime's.”

She laughed once more, her cruel voice echoing through the trees.

“Thank the Gods. In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning, he doesn't remember.” Cersei said proudly.

“You've always hated him.” Ned said spitefully.

She made a noise of disagreement and Sansa wished that she could see them, to see the look on the queen’s face and to comfort her father.

“Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life,” Cersei broke off for a moment, inhaling sharply. “Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did... what little he could do... and whispered in my ear, Lyanna. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me.”

Sansa felt a pang of sadness for the young girl that Cersei was but could not bring herself to feel sympathy for the woman she was now.

“When the King returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then ... you and your children. I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you.” Ned warned her.

“And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?” she shot back.

He did not say anything and the queen continued.

“You should have taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day King's Landing fell. He was sitting in the Iron Throne and you made him give it up. All you needed to do was climb the steps yourself. Such a sad mistake.” She said, sounding as though she was glad her father made such a decision.

“I've made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn't one of them.” Ned informed her.

“Oh, but it was.” Cersei countered.

Sansa heard rustling and leaned against the bark of the tree, chewing on her lower lip.

“When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” The queen said before turning away.

She waited until her footsteps disappeared to come out, Lady at her side with her head beneath Sansa’s right hand.

“Do you think she will run?” Sansa wondered, standing at her father’s side.

“I do not know. Let us go back.” he said, putting an arm over her shoulders.

\----------

“What’s going on with Father? Why isn’t he coming?” Arya questioned.

Sansa sighed, glancing over at her sister as she waited for the royal blacksmith to finish.

“Don’t worry about it.” she said.

“I am worried. Father isn’t sleeping. I saw him in his solar last night studying a big book. What aren’t you telling me? I’m not too young to know.” Arya argued.

Sansa reached out, taking her hand.

“I will tell you when we leave King’s Landing. Until then, it’s too dangerous for you to know anything.” She said.

Her sister huffed, looking past her as the man sheathed the dagger and handed it over.

“As sharp as it’ll ever be, milady. It’s a gift, you say?” he asked suspiciously, wondering why two noble daughters were at his forge.

Sansa simply gave him a sweet smile, taking the blade and handing a silver stag to the man.

“The only gift I’ll ever need.” She said, turning to walk off.

“Septa Mordane would faint if she knew you had that.” Arya said as they walked towards the tower.

Sansa didn’t care, strapping the blade to her calf once more when they were inside.

“Why did you have it sharpened? You’ve barely used it.” her sister asked curiously.

“The same reason you’ll want to keep that sword that Jon gave you sharp.” she replied, mussing Arya’s hair as she passed.

When they got to the top of the steps, Septa Mordane met them with wide wide eyes and her hands clasped at her chest.

“What is it?” Sansa asked, her spirits falling.

\----------

She was waiting at the bottom of the tower when her father returned, his face drawn and his eyes filled with sadness.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa sighed once they were inside, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Her father held her close, pulling away after a moment to look her in the eyes.

“The king will not last much longer. The situation is even more dire. You and your sister must leave on the first ship out of the harbor. I’ve sent Desmond to inquire about it.” he said.

Sansa tucked her hand into his arm, hurrying up the stairs with him.

“Has the queen not left?” she asked.

“There is no reason for her to do so. The king has been given milk of the poppy and cannot set things right. It will be up to me to ensure that the right heir inherit the throne and that is not Joffrey.” Ned said in a low voice.

As they reached the top and started towards his solar, a figure came out of the shadows.

“Lord Stark, a moment.”

They both turned around, Ned’s hand going to his waist before he realized that it was not a foe. Renly’s eyes flickered to Sansa, looking pale and shaken.

“Alone if you will.” He said.

“You may speak freely in front of my daughter. She knows of many things.” Ned reassured him.

The king’s brother took a deep breath, glancing around before stepping forward and speaking in a quiet voice.

“He named you Protector of the Realm.” He said.

Her father nodded.

“He did.” Ned confirmed.

Sansa’s eyes widened at the news but she didn’t say anything.

“She won't care. Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command.” Renly said, his voice rushed.

“And what should I do with a hundred swords?”

The youngest Baratheon rolled his eyes.

“Strike! Tonight while the castle sleeps,” He hissed. “We must get Joffrey away fro his mother and into our custody. Protector of the Realm or no, he who holds the King holds the Kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it will be too late for the both of us.”

Sansa looked at her father, wondering how he would react to Renly’s words.

“What about Stannis?” he questioned.

Renly shook his head.

“Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm.”

“Stannis is your older brother.” Ned reminded him.

“This isn't about the bloody line of succession. That didn't matter when you rebelled against the Mad King. It shouldn't matter now. What's best for the Kingdoms? What's best for the people we rule? We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He's not a King. I am.” Renly ranted, trying to convince the Hand to see his side.

Her father shook his head.

“Stannis is a commander. He's led men into war twice. He destroyed the Greyjoy fleet...”

“Yes, he's a good soldier. Everyone knows that,” the lord of Storm’s End said, interrupting him. “So was Robert. Tell me something, do you still believe good soldiers make good kings?”

Sansa stared between the men as they faced each other down, each trying to make his own view seen.

“I will not dishonor Robert's last hours by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Ned said, pulling her past him.

They left him behind, going to his solar. Sansa poured her father a cup of wine, handing it over.

“I know that you are trying to do the honorable thing, Father. I know that it is hard to discover what that is but do you think it wise to leave the seven kingdoms in the hands of Joffrey? His mother will have hold over his decisions and the Lannisters will rule Westeros uninhibited.” she said, watching as he drank.

Her father glanced up, staring into her eyes.

“Joffrey will not hold the throne for long.” He assured her.

\----------

Sansa leaned against a pillar, watching with a smile as Arya fought with her dancing master. It was the first time she’d seen her lessons and she knew that her brothers would be proud. Her younger sister had a smile on her face as she moved quickly, truly looking as though she was dancing with the wooden sword in her hand. When Syrio Forel granted her a reprieve, Arya turned to Sansa expectantly.

“What do you think?” she asked.

She grinned at her, pushing off of the pillar to walk forward.

“I never thought I would describe you as graceful.” Sansa said, putting a hand on her cheek. “Keep practicing. You still have a while before we leave for the ship.”

As she turned away, her steps faltered when the bells began ringing loudly. Her smile fell and she glanced around, exchanging a worried look with Arya’s dancing master.

“Is the city being attacked?” the younger sister questioned.

“No, the king has died.” Sansa said quietly, reaching out to touch her sister’s shoulder. “Remain here. The septa and I will come fetch you when it’s time.”

She bent down to kiss her forehead.

“We’re going home, remember that.” Sansa said, smiling at her.

Then she was gone, whisking away with her skirts trailing behind her as she hurried away.

“Where is my lord father?” she demanded of the men who were packing their trunks in the litter.

“He’s been called to the throne room, my lady. King Joffrey has demanded an audience.”

Sansa swallowed hard, turning away and closing her eyes for a moment. She steadied herself against the wall, feeling the overwhelming urge to run.

“Sansa.”

She opened her eyes to look upon Septa Mordane.

“Let us go to the small hall and eat before our journey. Arya will join us as soon as she shows her face.” she said.

Sansa followed her, unwilling to give away where Arya was. Her sister deserved to have this last lesson with Syrio before they departed from King’s Landing. They both ate quickly, knowing that the ship would disembark soon whether they were there or not. As they walked across the walkway towards the tower, the septa was complaining of the fact that Arya never showed up.

“She should be back at the tower when we get there. Honestly, the child knows we’re leaving.”

Sansa sighed, her head snapping up when she heard the sound of shouting and fighting beneath them. She looked around, seeing Lannister soldiers marching for them.

“Go to your chambers. Bar the door and do not let anyone in that you do not know.” Septa Mordane said in a hushed voice.

“Why?” Sansa said fearfully, her hand clutching the septa’s.

“Go now.” The woman hissed.

She gathered her skirts, turning to run off as quickly as she could. Her hair streamed behind her as she felt an unsettling sense of dread. Just as she ran past her father’s solar towards her chambers, another figure ascended from the other end. Sansa stopped short, gasping when she saw his hulking figure advancing on her.

“The queen sent you.” she murmured, backing away from Sandor.

“I am to take you to her.” he replied, his face emotionless as always.

She stopped short, her hands trembling as she held them out.

“Where is my father?” Sansa asked.

“I’d imagine he’s in the dungeons by now but they might be taking the long way around.” Sandor answered her.

Sansa’s hand twitched at her side desperate to get at the weapon on her leg.

“I know that dagger is there. Don’t bother to reach for it.” he warned.

She stared at him, backing away as he took another step forward. Suddenly Sansa darted past him, trying to get around him to run. She slipped past but just as she reached the stairs, his arms caught her around her waist.

“No! Let me go!” Sansa shouted, kicking and struggling as he hauled her backwards.

“Stop it.” Sandor hissed, pushing her against a wall and looming over her.

She beat her fists against his chest, feeling the chainmail digging into her skin. Her nails reached towards his face as she intended to fight as much as she could to get away from him. At that moment, he wasn’t Sandor. He was a Lannister servant who would deliver her to them.

“I said, stop!” he growled, seizing her wrists in his.

Sansa didn’t realize that she was crying until she let out a violent sob, realizing that she was well and truly caught.

“Please, do not take me to them. Let me go.” she pleaded, sagging in his arms.

“I have no choice, little bird.”

She freed a hand from his grip, slapping him across the unscarred half of his face. His head barely jerked to the side but his jaw clenched as his eyes flashed with anger.

“Craven,” Sansa spat in his face. “You disgust me.”

His hands clenched down on her arms.

“Don’t do that again.” Sandor said in a low voice.

Sansa wasn’t sure if he meant hitting him or insulting him but either way, she felt the need to do it again.

“Well done, Clegane.” A man’s voice said.

They both turned to look and saw two white cloaks ascending the stairs.

“She is to be placed in her chambers and guarded to ensure that she does not escape. The queen will see her when she has a chance. She’s very busy in her role as regent.” Ser Meryn said, leering at Sansa.

She glared back at him, feeling a rush of hatred for everything within the walls of the Red Keep.

“I believe that my father was given that title by King Robert himself.” She said in an icy voice.

“The fat king is dead and a new one takes his place. The only orders to be obeyed now are those of King Joffrey’s.” Boros Blount answered her.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at them as Sandor stepped away from her.

“Take the little bird to her cage.” He said, pushing her towards the knights.

She turned to look at him.

“The Mad King threatened to burn the city to the ground with wildfire. What do you think this mad king will do?” she said, staring into his eyes until they yanked her around the corner and out of sight.

\----------

Arya was nowhere to be found and she was torn between being terrified for her sister and being grateful that she was out of reach of the Lannisters. Sansa wanted nothing more than to see Arya again but she could not wish for her sister to be imprisoned in her own rooms as well. On the third day of her imprisonment in her own chambers, Cersei called to her. Sansa put on her nicest dress and let her hair be pulled away from her face, braided in a crown around her head with Joffrey’s gift a chokehold around her throat. She walked towards the council chambers with her head held high, her hands clasped in front of her demurely. The new king was sitting on his throat, his eyes tracking her as she was escorted past him.

“I would like to speak to you, Lady Sansa.” Joffrey called to her.

“Your mother calls for her.” Ser Boros said gruffly, pulling her forward.

Sansa couldn’t say that she wasn’t pleased with the reason not to spend time in Joffrey’s presence. Once she stepped inside, she saw the queen sitting at the long table with Varys, Littlefinger, and Pycelle behind her. Sansa was seated across from her, a parchment as well as a quill and ink in front of her.

“Your father has proved to be an awful traitor, dear.” Varys said, shaking his head sadly.

“King Robert's body was still warm when Lord Eddard began plotting to steal Joffrey's rightful throne.” The Grand Maester nodded.

“The king was my father’s friend. He wouldn’t betray such a friendship.” Sansa said, choosing the right words carefully.

Cersei sighed, leaning forward as she played her part well in front of the council.

“Sansa sweetling, you are innocent of any wrong. We know that. Yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?” she asked, her green eyes flickering up to Sansa’s.

“A child born of a traitor's seed is no fit consort for our King,” Pycelle spoke up, though rather slowly. “She is a sweet thing now, Your Grace, but in ten years who knows what treasons she may hatch?”

Sansa fought the urge to scoff at his statement. She could speak sweet little words to make people happy but when it came down to it, she was hardly sweet by nature.

“The girl is innocent, Your Grace,” Littlefinger broke in, looking at Sansa in such a way that made her shiver. “She should be given a chance to prove her loyalty.”

Cersei considered it for a moment.

“Would you like to prove your loyalty?” she asked Sansa.

“I would love nothing more, Your Grace.” Sansa replied, nodding at her.

She did want to prove her loyalty but she did not say to whom she wanted to prove it. The queen looked happy, thinking it was to her son and the Lannisters, gesturing to the materials before her.

“Little dove, you must write to Lady Catelyn and your brother, the eldest, what's his name?”

“Robb.” Sansa answered shortly.

Cersei nodded in agreement.

“Word of your father's arrest will reach him soon, no doubt. Best it comes from you. If you would help your father, urge your brother to keep the King's peace. Tell him to come to King's Landing and swear his fealty to Joffrey.” She instructed.

Sansa picked up the quill, hesitating as she glanced up at her.

“What will happen to him? My father?” she asked, looking appropriately scared as she turned the feather over in her fingers.

“That depends.” Cersei answered.

“On what?”

The queen reached out, placing a hand over Sansa’s.

“On your brother. And on you.” she said softly.

Sansa stared at her for a moment before bowing her head to pen the letter.

\----------

_My Dearest Brother,_

_I write with grave news though I wish I could write of happier things. Father has been arrested on suspicions of treason. He denounced King Joffrey in front of the court and has brought shame upon himself and our family. To redeem his actions, you are summoned to King’s Landing to bend the knee and swear fealty to Joffrey. The new king is inclined to look upon our family with mercy if you do this. I do so wish to see your face again, to look upon the grey of your eyes and the black of your hair. I eagerly await your arrival in the capital. Bring Theon as well, I do miss him so._

_Your Loving Sister,_

_Sansa Stark_

“Treason?” Robb said with disbelief, his eyes focused on one part of the letter before he could fully process the rest.

He looked up at Maester Luwin with a frown marring his features.

“Sansa wrote this?”

“It is your sister's hand, but the queen's words,” The maester sighed. “You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

Theon sat at the table next to him, an angry look on his face.

“Joffrey puts my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?” Robb demanded, returning to the letter to read it over once more.

“This is a royal command, My Lord. If you should refuse to obey…”

“I won't refuse.” Robb said, interrupted the maester as his eyes lit up. “His Grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. Look, there is something else in the letter.”

He laid it down for the other two males to see.

“The grey of my eyes and the black of my hair?” Robb pointed out.

“I think she’s describing your bastard brother there. Do you think King’s Landing has made her touched in the head?” Theon suggested.

Robb shook his head firmly.

“It’s a message from Sansa. She is trying to tell me something. And look at the last line. Why in seven hells would she ask for you? Sansa never liked you much and I’m certain she doesn’t miss you.” he said, glancing at Theon before looking back at it.

“So what does it mean?” Maester Luwin questioned, looking upon Robb calmly.

He took a deep breath.

“When we were young, we would play at war. Sansa would be the fair maiden captured by an evil wizard or a tyrant king. We would play the knight and try to release her. She would write us letters, coming up with a code to let us know what to do.”

Theon sat up straighter, suddenly remembering what Robb spoke of.

“What did colors mean? When she used the wrong color to describe something?” he said, his face screwing up in concentration.

“The enemy was forcing her to write, something we knew already,” Robb said, glancing down at the paper. “What is she trying to say?”

They both thought for a moment as the maester watched them.

“Why would she mention Theon in particular, having almost no attachment to him?” Luwin pushed.

Robb’s eyes lit up for a second time.

“She is saying to bring him along for protection,” he realized. “But surely she cannot just meant Theon which means there should be more protection, more men she has no attachment to but still a reason to ask for.”

Theon still looked slightly confused as he turned to the old man.

“Call the banners. That’s what she is telling us.” Robb decided.

“All of them, My Lord?” Maester Luwin said in a low voice, a hint of pride in his eyes.

Robb pulled his shoulders back, lifting his chin.

“They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?” he said.

The maester nodded slowly.

“They have.” He confirmed.

“Now we see what their words are worth.” Robb said.

Maester Luwin nodded, turning to hurry off so that they could send out the ravens. Robb took a deep breath, sitting down next to Theon.

“Are you afraid?” his friend asked, looking at him.

Robb lifted his hand that was shaking violently.

“I must be.” he sighed.

Theon nodded, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good.” He said.

Robb frowned at him.

“Why is that good?” he questioned.

“It means you're not stupid.”

\----------

Sansa stood proudly before the throne, her chin lifted and her back straight.

“Do you know what your brother has done?” Joffrey demanded, leaning forward on his iron throne.

“I assume that he has begun his journey to the South. He was summoned, after all.” she replied.

The council was not there. Other than Joffrey and his kingsguard, they were the only ones in the hall. Barristan the Bold was not among them and she knew that the news of his dismissal was the truth.

“Your brother marches south with an army of your father’s bannermen.” Joffrey growled.

Sansa felt pride and relief stirring within her.

“The Stark bannermen have always been loyal.” she said, fighting back the smile which threatened to take over her face.

“They are meant to be loyal to me! I am their king!” he shouted, standing up and stomping down the steps towards her.

She didn’t even flinch, staring him down with a cold expression.

“Perhaps they are coming to remind their king that the Mad King dared to capture two Starks and he died where you stand.” Sansa said.

She heard the shifting of the kingsguard as they took her words as a threat.

“I could have you beheaded for that.” Joffrey threatened.

Sansa didn’t reply, simply looking back at him with an unfazed expression.

“But I think I would rather punish you in a different way. We’re still to be married and my mother told me never to hit my lady.”

She saw the dangerous glint in his eyes and her heart faltered for a moment. Sansa’s eyes flickered to the kingsguard and her eyes met with Sandor’s. He was stone-faced but his eyes told a different story.

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey called.

The knight strode forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Keep her face pretty.”

Ser Meryn towards Sansa with a smirk. He hit her so quickly that she barely saw his fist before it connected with her stomach. She let out a cross between a gasp and a cry, doubling over with her arms wrapped around her stomach. She heard the sound of metal screeching and saw a glimpse of the knight’s sword out of the corner of her eye before it slammed into the back of her knees. Sansa sobbed with pain, collapsing to her knees as another blow struck her back. Her hands hit the ground hard and she ducked her head, refusing to let Joffrey see the anguish on her face. Ser Meryn’s hand twisted in her long hair, yanking her head back to look up at the king.

“I knew you would bend the knee to me eventually.” Joffrey said, clearly pleased at her punishment.

Sansa mustered all of her strength to glare at him.

“My brother will bring me your head.” She spat at him.

Ser Meryn’s mailed hand was slamming across her face as soon as the words left her mouth and Sansa slammed to the floor. She tasted blood in her mouth and reached her trembling hand up to touch her lips. When she pulled it away, she saw the scarlet liquid on her fingertips.

“Do you know why you won’t win?” Sansa said, blood dripping down her chin and mingling with her tears as she looked up at the king.

His green eyes narrowed at her, ready to instruct Ser Meryn to beat her more.

“Because you are a man without honor and you inspire no loyalty without the gold that your grandfather provides. In the end, men will follow their hearts easier than their greed and you will have no power over them. That is when you shall die.” Sansa said, pulling herself up to her feet.

She swayed on the spot, refusing to stagger as she held herself upright despite the pain radiating through her body. Before Joffrey could give the order, the door to the throne room slammed open and a squire ran in with a panicked expression on his face. A grey and white blur followed, a loud growl filling the air as Lady raced towards Sansa. She came to a graceful stop beside her, baring her teeth at Joffrey and his knights. Sansa slid her hand into the direwolf’s fur, leaning heavily on her for a moment.

“What is going on?”

Sansa turned her head to see the council entering the hall, Cersei leading Littlefinger, Varys, and Pycelle. They all stopped short when they saw her battered appearance.

“What have you done?” she said, looking at her son.

“Robb Stark has taken up arms against me. Sansa admitted to knowing of his plans and she has received a punishment for her actions.” Joffrey said.

Even the other members of the council looked shocked at his words and Sansa’s treatment.

“Robb Stark’s crimes are no more hers than Ned Stark’s.” Varys said.

“They already lead an army south. I do not think they would be pleased to find that she has been mistreated at the hands of the king they seek to remove from power.” Littlefinger agreed, looking at Sansa hesitatingly.

She glared back at him, not wanting any of their help.

“Clegane, see Lady Sansa back to her rooms and ensure that she remains there. I do not want her removed.” Cersei said.

Joffrey started to argue but his words died in his throat as his own bodyguard marched forward to her side. Lady took a step forward, growling defensively.

“Hush, Lady.” Sansa sighed, stroking her fur.

She turned, ignoring Sandor as she started walking out with difficulty. As soon as they were out of the throne room, Sansa staggered and he caught her easily, lifting her into his arms. She whimpered at the pressure that the position put on her sore back and legs but didn’t complain otherwise. Her head lolled against his shoulder as he walked her through the yard towards the tower of the Hand. As soon as they were upstairs and in her bedroom, her handmaidens surrounded her. Sandor stood in the corner as they pulled her behind the screen and stripped her down, helping her into a warm bath. They helped her wash off and as soon as she was out, she wrapped up in a shift and a dark blue dressing gown trimmed with white lace.

Sansa walked out from behind the screen, starting when she saw Sandor still standing there. Lady was beside her, refusing to move from her side. She dismissed the ladies from her room, staring at him suspiciously.

“Are you here to watch me? To ensure that I commit no more treason?” she asked.

“You heard the queen. I am to ensure that you remain here.” he answered.

“You can just as easily guard me outside of the door.” Sansa countered.

Sandor stood there for a moment before striding forward. Lady did not growl at him but her eyes were tracking his movements. He reached out, brushing a thumb lightly over her split lip. Sansa stared up at him with wide eyes.

“I cannot decide whether to hate you or not,” she admitted, reaching up to take his hand in hers. “You go from hot to cold and you are a very confusing man.”

He stared down into her eyes.

“I failed you, little bird. I will not do it again.” Sandor said in a rough voice.

She stared deeply into his face and saw the guilt weighing him down at standing there while she was treated so horribly. Sansa smiled, tears gathering in her eyes.

“I thought you hated vows, my non-ser.” she whispered.

“I will gladly make this vow,” he replied without hesitation. “What would you have me do?”

Sansa barely had to consider it, knowing exactly what she wanted.

“I wish to see my father.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor follows through on his vow to Sansa. She learns a few truths from her father that she would rather not know. A solution is decided upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I don't love this chapter. I'm exhausted and just trying to get through this awkward transition stage to the rest of the story. I hope that you are not as critical as I am.

Sansa ran her tongue along the cut on her lip as she brushed her hair out. The sun was falling beneath the horizon and soon, darkness was falling across King’s Landing. Her maids were bustling around the room, preparing her bed and kindling the fire in her hearth. She wore a shift that was unlaced in the back, allowing her wounds to be uncovered. The bruises were dark and large, spanning the entire width of her back. The backs of her thighs were sore as well and she was on the edge of the chair so that they did not have pressure on them either. When a knock sounded on her door, Sansa looked around with a questioning look, nodding at one of her handmaidens to open it. The queen walked in, a shawl around her shoulders. Sansa stood, curtsying as she reached for a dressing gown to cover herself.

“Stop.” Cersei instructed.

She looked up at her, dropping her hand before it could grasp the fabric.

“You are dismissed.” The queen said to her ladies.

They all curtsied and hurried out, leaving them alone. Sansa and Cersei stood in the room, staring at each other for several moments.

“May I?” the older woman questioned, gesturing to her body.

Sansa knew that it was more of a command and turned, letting the shift fall open once more and pulling her hair over her shoulder. Cersei walked forward, trailing her fingers lightly over one of the bruises. Sansa winced when she pressed a little too hard one the sore spot.

“I did not know that Joffrey would do this to you.” she admitted, stepping away and allowing Sansa to cover herself.

She turned around, lacing the dressing gown at the front.

“He told me that you said never to hit his lady. He found away around that.” Sansa said, refusing to sit despite her aching body.

Cersei reached out, tilting her face towards the candles on her table so that she could see the damage better. Her lip was split and there was a cut and bruise on her cheek where his armor sliced into her skin.

“You hate him.” she guessed.

Sansa hesitated, not answering her question.

“I hated Robert after a while as well. That’s all right. No one said you have to love your husband.” The queen said, taking a seat.

She waved at Sansa to do so as well. Once she was perched on the edge of the chair, Cersei continued.

“You could grow to love Joffrey despite his actions but even if you don’t, you will have his children and you will love them. That will make everything worth it.” she said.

“Will it?” Sansa countered doubtfully.

Cersei nodded in confirmation and she scoffed, glancing away.

“Do you really think that Joffrey and I will be married? There is no sense in the marriage. You’ve angered the North and my brother will demand my return in exchange for not marching on King’s Landing. The only way to end this conflict before it starts is to give me back to my family, my father as well.” Sansa said, looking back at the regent.

“We will not ransom you. At the moment, my father’s army outnumbers your brother’s men two-to-one. We simply have numbers on our side,” Cersei shrugged. “As for your father, he will not go home ever again. If he is allowed to live, he will be sent to Castle Black to live out his days as a member of the Night’s Watch with his bastard son. He will have no titles, lands, or endowments. Your brother will be lucky if we allow him to retain lordship of Winterfell and his title as Warden of the North if he persists in this little stunt of his.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“My brother will gain enough loyal men to kill every red-cloaked man that he crosses if it comes to that. I doubt that you would like to see that. When he kills your son and takes the throne, he won’t need to be reassured of his position as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. He’ll have the iron throne.” she said in a cold voice.

Cersei looked amused at her words.

“I have heard that Robb Stark doesn’t wish to pursue the iron throne. He only wishes to get his family back.” she said tauntingly.

Sansa sat up straighter, looking as regal as the queen at that moment.

“I will get away from King’s Landing and I will be at his side. One word from me, and his pursuits will change. One whisper in his ear and he will all but destroy Casterly Rock and every Lannister that stands in his way.”

Cersei stood, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Your brother has no claim to the iron throne.” She snapped.

Sansa stood as well.

“Neither did your husband and your son is a bastard, as well as your other two children. Robb has the blood of the First Men within his veins and the love of his bannermen. He deserves to be king more than Joffrey.” she shot back.

“And what made you decide to put a Stark on the throne, little dove?” the queen said, staring her down.

A smile twisted on Sansa’s face, a cruel mimicry of the look she’d seen on Cersei’s face before.

“When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground,” Sansa repeated, using Cersei’s words that had been thrown at her father. “I don’t intend to die, Your Grace.”

Cersei smirked as well, looking almost impressed at Sansa’s words.

“We’ve sent men after your wild sister. I expect they’ll be bringing her back to King’s Landing within a sennight.” She said before turning to whisk out of the room.

Sansa was left alone, taking a deep breath as she braced herself against the table. After a few moments of silence, there was a heavy knock on the door.

“Come in.” she sighed, not wanting to see another visitor.

Sandor stepped into the room and she sighed with relief, sinking into her chair once more.

“How is the pain?” he questioned in a low voice, closing the door behind him.

“I’ve had worse.” Sansa said.

He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not believing her statement.

“I was thrown from a horse once and I hit my head against a rock. That pain was worse.” Sansa said, looking up at him.

He let out a huff and took a seat on the chair that Cersei vacated only minutes before.

“Why are you in here?” Sansa asked, losing her polite words in favor of bluntness at the moment.

Sandor sat back in his chair as he glanced around to ensure that they were completely alone.

“I’ve made preparations for your request. We can do it tonight and only tonight.” He answered.

Sansa sat up straighter, her heart leaping at the idea of speaking to her father.

“Truly?” she whispered.

He nodded once, confirming his words. She let out a long sigh, pushing herself up and crossing to a trunk to open it.

“How long?” Sansa asked.

“We shall go after midnight,” he answered. “You should sleep.”

She shook her head, pulling a sack out of her chest and dropping it on her table.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Sansa refused, looking into his eyes.

They were shadowed and his body looked exhausted as she inspected him.

“You should, though.” She said warily.

He stared at her suspiciously.

“I am your guard. I am not permitted to sleep while on the watch.”

Sansa sighed, walking to her chest to pull out a dark grey cloak.

“You are keeping me from escaping, not protecting me. Why would I sneak away when you have promised to take me to see my father? It would be nonsensical.” she assured him.

“It would be foolish. If another guard came by…”

“They would not. I know that Ser Meryn has been forbidden to come to my chambers lest Joffrey command him to beat me again. Ser Boros and the rest are far too frightened of you to come. You haven’t taken any vows as they have so you have no oaths to break. That makes you a dangerous man.”

Sandor frowned at her, standing up as well.

“I’ve made a vow.” He said, reminding her of their conversations two nights before.

Sansa smiled slightly, walking to the door to latch it tightly.

“You’ve said that you will make a vow. You haven’t specifically made one.” she informed him.

He huffed, clearly hating that she was pointing out the difference.

“What will you have me do? Get down on my knees and lay my sword at your feet. This isn’t one of your bloody songs.” Sandor snapped.

Sansa’s eyes flashed with anger before she turned to blow out her candles, leaving the room in the dim light of the fire in the hearth.

“As if the bruises on my back don’t prove that.” she murmured.

He sighed, his annoyance dimmed by her response. Sandor reached out, taking her elbow gently. Sansa didn’t struggle against him as he led her to the bed and urged her to sit. Once she was seated on the edge of the feather mattress, he knelt down before her, his armor clinking and shifting. He looked up at her, his face shadowed and his eyes glittering in the dim light.

“I will protect you and I will not allow you to be hurt again. I know that I have done nothing to gain your trust and I intend to do everything within my power to make you believe me. As long as I live, you will live. Believe that, little bird.”

Sansa felt her heart warm at his words but there was still a shred of doubt in the back of her mind that reminded her that he was a Lannister servant. She reached out, her hand shaking until she put it over his scarred cheek. The skin was rough beneath her hand but she did not recoil, brushing her thumb beneath his eye.

“When I was in Winterfell and I felt scared, I would go to Arya’s room. I would wake her and tell her of my fears. Then we would go to Robb’s room, stopping at Jon’s along the way. They both knew that if we came, there was something wrong. Then we would all climb into Robb’s bed and lie there together. The boys would tell us funny stories until we laughed and scary stories until we hid beneath the furs. Then we would all fall asleep together and I would feel safe. I knew that I was surrounded by my siblings, people who would protect me with everything they had and I knew that I would do it in return.” Sansa said in a hushed voice.

Sandor stood up slowly, understanding the reasoning behind her story. Sansa looked up, watching as he shed the sword belt around his waist and began stripping off his armor.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

She blinked her eyes were suddenly full of unshed tears. That was the only answer that he needed. A few minutes later, he was lying on the bed and she was sitting up beside him.

“I thought you said you all laid down.” Sandor grumbled, feeling her eyes on his face despite the fact that his were closed.

“One of us should remain awake so that we do not miss our time.” Sansa said quietly.

He opened his eyes, glancing over at her.

“Lie down, little bird. I will not sleep.” He said.

She sighed, letting her body stretch out beside him. Sansa still watched him, her body curled up on her side.

“You seek no reward?” she questioned.

Sandor looked at her once more.

“What do you mean?” he replied.

“Robb would likely give a handsome reward to the man who brings his sister back to her family. Is that not what you seek?”

He hesitated before shaking his head.

“This place will break you. You have a fire within you that is brighter than your hair but they would destroy it eventually. They will kill you slowly and torturously. You don’t deserve that and all I seek is the chance to get you far away from this place. Your safety will be my reward.”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat at his words. She reached out, slowly curling her fingers against his scarred hand.

“You have more honor than any knight.” Sansa whispered.

Sandor let out a deep, rumbling laugh, squeezing her fingers lightly.

“You Starks and your honor.” He said, shaking his head.

Sansa smiled, placing her head against the pillow. Her eyes slid closed and before she knew it, the crackling of the fire and the heat from Sandor’s body was lulling her to sleep.

\----------

Sansa’s cheeks burned as she hid behind the screen and changed her clothing.

“You should have woke me.” she said, slipping her shift off and letting it flutter to the ground.

“Why would I want to do that?” Sandor replied.

She could hear the amusement in his voice and it made her blush darken as she pulled the tunic over her head.

“It was inappropriate.” Sansa said, grabbing her boots before walking out into the room.

Sandor glanced up at her, a smirk on his face that dropped at the sight of her.

“What?” she said innocently, pulling the boots on.

He didn’t answer, looking up her body at the breeches and the tunic as well as the vest. Sansa picked up her dagger, buckling the belt around her waist and picking up her hat. She tucked her braid beneath it, hiding her bright red hair.

“Where did you get clothes like that?” Sandor questioned.

“I’ve always had them. Arya and I both have boy’s clothing for sneaking around,” Sansa said with a slight smile, stepping towards him. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

His eyes went from the way the breeches hugged her hips to her eyes.

“What question?” Sandor asked in a rough voice.

Sansa felt a shot of heat go through her at the look in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me when I was sleeping on top of you?” she murmured, taking a step towards him.

A smile formed on his face, something that might have looked terrifying to others. Sansa simply felt pleasure at making him happy.

“I was comfortable. Why would I want to move you?” Sandor replied, looking at her with a wolfish grin.

She shook her head, flushing once more as she smiled back.

“There’s a reason they call me a dog, little bird.” He said, turning away from her to strap his sword belt on.

Sansa looked at him sternly.

“You are not a dog. I don’t like hearing you say that.” she said in a chastising tone.

He looked over at her, wondering if she truly meant her words. Sansa put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrow, daring him to argue.

“As my lady commands.” Sandor simply said.

She started to laugh as she crossed to the door. He opened it slowly, looking out before hurrying her into the darkness of the passage. Suddenly, her good mood vanished when she remembered why they were out in the middle of the night. Her father was waiting.

\----------

After sneaking around the castle with Sandor in front of her, his hand on his sword, they finally made it to the tunnels beneath the Red Keep. The castle was different at night, filled with the ghosts that she and the queen spoke of so long ago. Sansa kept quiet the entire time, not daring to speak as Sandor whispered hushed commands towards her. normally, she would balk at being told what to do in such a blunt manner but she had her life and the life of her father in his hands and she would not jeopardize that by being unnecessarily noisy.

“Prepare yourself, little bird,” Sandor warned as they stood at the entrance to the dungeons. “This is a disgusting place.”

He had a key, of course, effortlessly pushing the door open. As they stepped inside of the dark and wet passage, she almost gagged at the smell that hit her. Sansa put her hands over her mouth as they walked along the tunnel, looking into the cells on the left and right. Some of them were empty but they were also filled with criminals of all shapes, sizes, and birth. They reached the end after a while and Sandor gestured to the cell with a huddled figure in the corner. Sansa wanted to tell him that he made a mistake until the man’s face turn. She gasped, clutching at the filty bars carelessly.

“Father.” Sansa whispered.

Ned’s eyes widened as he looked up at her through the dim light of the torch in Sandor’s hand.

“Sansa?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She almost sobbed as he crawled towards the bars to be closer to her. Sansa crouched down to be on his level, reaching her hand through the bars to grasp his.

“Oh Father.” Sansa cried softly, tears filling her eyes.

His other hand reached up, stroking her cheek.

“How sweet it is to see your face, my child.” Ned murmured.

His eyes flickered up to see the man who brought her and surprise reflected in his expression when he noticed who it was.

“Hound.” Ned said in a low voice, contempt in his tone.

“He’s been helping me, Father. He brought me here after I told him it was what I wanted. He’s sworn himself to my service.” Sansa assured him.

“Did he do this?” he demanded, putting a hand on her bruised cheek.

She shook her head, reaching her other hand up to lay over his.

“Joffrey has turned horrible in his short time on the iron throne. Or, I suppose, he was always horrible but now he has the power to be even worse. He and Cersei forced me to write to Mother and Robb about your arrest. They wanted them to travel to King’s Landing and swear fealty and I was to convince them of that.”

“Did you?” Ned questioned.

“I wrote to them,” Sansa confirmed, nodding. “I told Robb to bring friends along as well. He’s gathered all of the Stark bannermen and they travel south to free us.” 

He frowned, looking upset at the news.

“He’s just a boy.” Ned said in a low voice.

“Robb’s twentieth nameday is fast approaching. He is a boy no longer, Father. You fought the Targaryens at a young age and won,” Sansa reminded him. “Now Robb is fighting for your life, something very precious to all of us. We just have to keep you alive long enough for him to come to King’s Landing and free us.”

Ned shook his head, squeezing her hand gently.

“Tywin Lannister and his army will stand in Robb’s way, I’m certain of it. He will not come to King’s Landing.”

Sansa was horrified at his lack of faith in his son and bannermen.

“Why do you say such things, Father?” she whispered.

“I grew up with soldiers, my dear Sansa. I learned how to die a long time ago.” he sighed.

She felt an icy chill grip her chest.

“You will not die.” Sansa said forcefully.

“Bastard or not, Joffrey has claimed the throne and therefore can claim treason. It is only rightful that he take my head from its shoulders.” Ned said quietly.

She shook her head insistently as her tears slid down her face.

“You cannot give up, Father. I cannot let you die.” Sansa cried, gripping his hand tightly in hers.

“I love you, my dearest Sansa. I am very proud of you and your siblings. I fought for you to be free of a tyrant so long ago but now I fear that another has risen. This is not my fight but yours… and your siblings’.” Ned said.

Sansa looked at him with a broken expression.

“Arya is gone. She’s lost. The day they arrested you, she disappeared.” She admitted, afraid that he would be angry with her for losing her sister.

Ned squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“She will find her way back to you, to the pack. Arya is a wolf as the rest of you and she will come home.” he promised.

Sansa could not pinpoint why she believed him but she simply did.

“We cannot do this without you.” she whimpered.

“You can and you will. I have faith in each of you. You must go, Sansa. Tonight, if possible. Do not stay in the prison of the Lannisters any longer than you have to. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to get away. Joffrey will try to break you and I refuse to go to my death believing that my daughter is not safe.” 

Ned’s eyes flickered to Sandor, narrowing slightly.

“Do you vow to keep my Sansa safe and alive from those whom you would serve?” he questioned, needing to know that his daughter would have protection.

“I serve one person now, Lord Stark. I serve your daughter.” Sandor said solemnly.

It was enough to reassure Ned and he looked back at Sansa.

“There is something that I must tell you. It will turn the tide of this brewing war and you must carry the information to your brother at all cost.” 

Sansa read the seriousness in his voice and nodded slowly, finally accepting what must be done. Ned pulled her in, bending their heads as close together as possible. His voice was a low murmur as he launched into his explanation. By the time she pulled away, Sansa’s eyes were wide and her hand was covering her mouth.

“You understand why I had to keep it quiet.” Ned said, staring into her eyes.

“Yes.” She whispered, removing her hand.

“I trust you to deliver this truth to your brother. I trust you to ensure that this war ends justly with an honorable man on the throne governing Westeros and I trust you to be a voice of wisdom to him when I cannot be there. I shall speak and live through you, Sansa. I will always be there when you need me. Find a godswood and I shall be there.” Ned promised.

She felt the urge to sob and wail about everything but kept herself calm and quiet.

“Can’t you try to fight?” she said pleadingly, looking into his eyes.

“I will try my hardest but that may not be enough. I must know that you are safe.”

Sansa nodded, glancing up at Sandor who was staring at both of them, wondering what he told her.

“I will be safe.” She said confidently, looking back at her father.

He sighed, putting his hands on her cheeks.

“Tell your mother that I love her and that I am terribly sorry for the pain I caused her. I love all of my family very much and I shall not leave you even after death.”

Sansa nodded, pressing a kiss to one of his hands.

“I love you too, Father.” She whispered.

“Now go. Leave this place behind and do not put yourself at risk for me.” Ned said.

She forced herself to stand despite the urge to stay there until someone removed her by force.

“The Lannisters all together aren’t worth half of you.” she murmured to her father.

He smiled up at her before backing away into the shadows. Sandor put an arm around her shoulders, steering her out as quickly as they could go. When they were halfway through the tunnels, Sansa staggered against a stone wall and let out a soft wail of sadness. Sandor stared at her for a moment before pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her. Sansa laid her head against his mailed chest and let her emotions loose for several minutes. When her tears fell slower, she looked up at him with a confused look.

“Why did you let me do that?” Sansa asked hoarsely.

“Because you needed it and because you will not have a chance for a long time.” Sandor replied.

She looked at him with confusion.

“Why not?” she said.

“Because we are leaving… tonight.” He said, hurrying them on through the tunnels.

\----------

Once he gathered his gold and a few staples for their trip, Sansa and Sandor were hurrying through the darkness towards the stables. He pulled his large horse out of the stall, quickly saddling him as the black horse snorted and stomped the ground.

“Be careful around him. He’s nasty.” Sandor warned as Sansa inched closer.

“Will he like me riding him?” Sansa asked.

He hesitated before sighing heavily.

“We cannot afford to be slowed down by another horse now. Perhaps when we are further away from King’s Landing, we can get you a horse.” He said.

She nodded, looking up at him.

“Are you taking me to Winterfell?” Sansa asked.

Sandor shook his head, lifting her into the saddle before climbing on behind her.

“I’m taking you to your brother. That is where you belong.” He said before urging the horse out of the stables.

Sansa hid her face in her cloak’s hood as Sandor killed the guards at the gate when they tried to stop them.

“Are you going to kill many people?” she asked as he hurried through King’s Landing towards their freedom.

“I’m a killer, little bird. You’re going to have to get used to it.” Sandor growled, flashing his sword threateningly at the gold cloaks guarding the gate to the Kingsroad.

They did not hesitate, pulling the gates open out of fear of the sworn shield. Sandor still did not let them live, ensuring that their flight would be a secret for at least a few hours while the castle slept. Before she knew it, they were off, galloping along the road. Her eyes slid closed and she took a deep breath, calling to her direwolf. After several minutes, she felt Sandor tense and her eyes flew open. A loud howl ripped through the air and she turned her head, her eyes widening when she saw Lady running alongside them. She was not alone. One look on their other side showed another, more wild wolf darted through the trees as well.

“Nymeria.” Sansa whispered, wondering if the wolf had come to lead them to Arya.

“It looks like you’ve got three guards.” Sandor grumbled.

She felt grief for her father and her sister filling her as they hurtled away from King’s Landing as quickly as they could go. A part of Sansa held onto the hope that they could still save Ned, even though it was unlikely. She would not give up on him until he took his last breath and even after that, Sansa would go to her death believing in Eddard Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome and your comments help me to write more than you know.


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